Human Spirit
by Alohaemora
Summary: The story of Remus Lupin: the beginning, the end, and everything in between. "We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that, deep inside us, something is valuable…Once we believe in ourselves, we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight, or any experience that reveals the human spirit." ―e e cummings
1. Remus

10 March 1960

"Lyall."

Lyall Lupin stirred in his sleep, frowning slightly.

" _Lyall_."

Lyall gave a soft snort, rolling over and cracking his eyes open.

"Lyall, for God's sake, _wake up_."

At last, Lyall jerked awake, tumbling out of the armchair he was wedged into with a strangled cry of alarm. Raising his head, Lyall blinked around in bewilderment. It took him a moment to absorb his current situation—he was lying in an uncomfortable U-shape on the floor of the Maribel Monrova Maternity Ward in St. Mungo's, staring up at the outline of his wife's impatient face through the darkness.

"Hope?" he asked hoarsely. He glanced at his watch; it was eleven o'clock in the evening. It had been nine hours since Hope had given birth to their child, a boy. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Hope said softly. Lyall heard a rustle of blankets, and he blinked again, squinting across the poorly lit hospital room at his wife. She had sat up in bed. "I just…I wanted to hold him."

A warm rush filled Lyall's stomach, just as it had when he had first held the baby, and he smiled. Shivering slightly—the hospital room was rather chilly, the way Hope preferred it—Lyall hopped to his feet and strode across the threshold towards the pale blue bassinet in corner of the room. The baby boy—his _son_ —was sleeping soundly, his soft, little chin twitching slightly as he snored. The corners of Lyall's lips lifted automatically in a grin. Bending down, Lyall cupped one hand around the small, fuzzy head and the other hand around the curve of the tiny back, slowly lifting the little one into his arms.

The baby wriggled slightly, snuffling in his sleep. But then, with a soft, contented sigh, he snuggled against his father's chest.

Lyall stared down at the tiny face, his heart beating wildly.

"Lyall…"

In a trance, Lyall turned around and walked slowly to his wife's cot. Then, very gently, he leaned forward and nestled the small bundle of blankets into the cradle of Hope's outstretched arms. At once, her expression became very tender and her eyes filled with tears. Lyall felt a lump rise in his own throat as he gazed at his wife, and he bit the inside of his cheek hard, swallowing heavily.

"I'm sorry I brought us here," he told her softly. "I-I know how badly you wanted to have him at Llandough, but I—panicked. I-I'm sorry, Hope, I just—St. Mungo's is the best—"

"Lyall," Hope interrupted tiredly, and Lyall quieted. There was a moment's silence. Then— "I'm glad you brought me here," Hope said quietly, her eyes transfixed by the sleeping baby in her arms. "You know how I feel—how I've _always_ felt—about…about magic. I am so proud to be your wife—so proud to be part of your extraordinary world." She paused. Then, she looked up and caught Lyall's gaze. "And I'm _so_ proud to have a son who's going to be every bit as incredible as his father is."

Lyall stared at his wife. And quite suddenly, he was inexplicably overwhelmed with emotion. Blinking rather rapidly, he pressed his lips together and nodded stiffly, before slowly lowering himself down onto the hospital cot next to her and resting a hand on her knee.

For several, long moments, a comfortable silence filled the room, as the couple watched the gentle rise-and-fall of their son's tiny chest.

"Lyall, I…I was thinking," Hope began slowly, and Lyall glanced at her, frowning. Hope seemed to struggle with herself for a moment. Then, with a deep breath, she looked up and met his eyes. "I was thinking that…I don't want to call him John anymore."

Lyall's mouth fell open. "You—what?" he croaked. "But we—I thought we'd decided on it months ago. I thought you _wanted_ to name him after your father."

Hope bit her lip.

"I did," she said softly. "But now…I just think that he—he's so much _more_." She gently readjusted their son's blankets and smoothed out a few peachfuzz tufts of his sandy hair. "He's too special for a name like that."

Lyall turned and gazed down at his son. And immediately, unexpectedly, extraordinarily, he realized that his wife was right. The boy in Hope's arms _was_ special—incredible—exceptional…the little boy in Hope's arms was a miracle— _their_ miracle. Lyall's throat swelled shut, and it was several minutes before he found himself able to speak again.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked hoarsely.

Hope looked up and caught his gaze, her expression surprised, and Lyall knew that she hadn't expected him to give in so readily. She stared at him for several moments. Then— "Remus," she whispered.

Lyall blinked. "Remus?"

Hope nodded eagerly. "It's from a story I read, back in secondary school," she explained quickly. "The founders of Rome—two brothers, Remus and Romulus, raised by a wolf—"

"I know the legend," Lyall interrupted, unable to restrain an amused smile at the sight of the enthusiastic gleam in his wife's eyes. "But—it's a bit of an odd name, isn't it?"

"It's _unique_ ," Hope said beseechingly. "Just like our son."

Lyall snorted softly. "All right," he said finally, grinning at his wife. "Remus, it is, then. But if we ever have another son, Hope, I'll feed myself to a hippogriff before I saddle him with a name like _Romulus_ ," he added, snickering under his breath.

Hope narrowed her eyes. "Keep that up, Lupin, and you're not going to be sleeping in the same bed as your wife for the foreseeable future—much less trying for another child."

Lyall stopped laughing at once, his eyes growing wide. Hope smirked, lifting their son up and cradling him closer. "Your daddy's a very smart man, Remus," she murmured in his little ear. "But he often forgets that he married a much smarter lady."

Lyall blinked, several times. And as he gazed at the blurry outline of his wife and son through the darkness, illuminated only by the shaft of moonlight glowing palely through the hospital windows, the familiar warm, fierce rush of affection filled his stomach again. He scooted closer to Hope on the cot and wrapped his arms around her, kissing the side of her head. "Thank goodness for that," he whispered.

She looked up, smiling warmly. Then, with a gentle sigh, she leaned back against his shoulder and held the little bundle of blue-striped blankets between them. Together, they watched as the baby crinkled his face in his sleep, reaching a wee fist out of his cocoon of warmth.

"Remus John Lupin," Hope said softly. She gave a little sniff, hugging the baby close. "That's your name, sweet boy," she whispered. "That's your name, my love…"

Lyall felt another enormous lump swell in his throat. Very tenderly, he reached out and brushed his son's tiny fist with his thumb. And then, at long last, Remus's wide, curious eyes fluttered open slowly, and he blinked sleepily up at his parents.

"Remus John Lupin," Lyall repeated hoarsely, swallowing. "A great wizard in the making."

Five little fingertips closed around Lyall's thumb.

* * *

Author's Note:

HERE WE GO, AS PROMISED: a 75-chapter Remus Lupin biography. I'm so excited for this! Please do drop me a line, letting me know your thoughts! :)

The title of this story is inspired by a wonderful quote by E.E. Cummings, one of my favorites, which I think perfectly encapsulates Remus's life. Here's the full quote: "We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight, or any experience that reveals the human spirit."

Cheers,  
Ari


	2. Shadow

11 February 1965

Four-year-old Remus swung his legs from his stool, as he leaned over the kitchen counter, his face screwed up in concentration. Picking up a black colored pencil, he began to neatly shade in the Hogwarts robes he had drawn on his self-portrait.

In the kitchen, his mother was busy cooking dinner and singing to herself—one of Remus's favorite tunes, an American folk song that he and Mummy had discovered while exploring a secondhand record store in London.

" _…_ _my only sunshine…You make me happy when skies are gray…_ "

Remus paused for a moment with his black pencil above the parchment, listening intently. Mummy had a very lovely voice. It was soft, but clear, and very, very warm.

Grinning to himself, Remus picked up his yellow colored pencil and began to draw the sun in the corner of the parchment. Remus loved the sun—it was bright and warm, just like his mother's voice. He loved the moon, too, but the sun was much nicer. Squinting down at the parchment, he applied the final strokes of yellow to the masterpiece. Then, satisfied at last, he sat back and beamed.

"Look, Mummy! All done!"

Mummy looked up from her saucepan, smiling. "What did you draw today, love?"

"Me," Remus said excitedly, waving the parchment at his mother. "In Hogwarts robes!"

Mummy turned the stove down and came over to the counter to take a closer look at his drawing. She gasped, putting a hand to her heart.

"Oh, Remus, it's _beautiful!_ " she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she beamed at him.

Remus blushed, feeling very pleased. "An' look—there's the sun, Mummy," he grinned, pointing to the bright yellow circle near the right corner of the parchment. He looked up and gazed seriously at his mother. "So no one can take your sunshine."

Mummy blinked, several times. Then, suddenly, her face burst into a smile, and she bent down and scooped Remus out of his stool, swinging him high into her arms and kissing him all over. Remus shrieked with laughter, squirming.

"Mummy, stop! That's icky!"

"No one can _ever_ take my sunshine, Remus," she said warmly, hugging him tightly. "Do you know why?"

Remus frowned curiously at her. "Why?"

Mummy grinned, kissing his cheek again. "Because _you're_ my little sunshine boy," she sang, spinning him around in a circle, much to Remus's delight. He let out another peal of laughter, squeezing his arms tightly around her neck.

Humming happily, Mummy carried him over to the dinner table and set him down in a chair. Then, she walked back to the kitchen counter and heaved the large tureen of stew up from the stove and back towards the table. Remus watched her with interest. A few months earlier, Daddy had taught Remus that Mummy couldn't make pots and pans move with magic, like he could. He had taught Remus that Mummy couldn't make light with a wand, or make gold sparks dance around the sitting room, or make food cook itself, or make laundry fold itself—and he had made Remus _promise_ never to treat her badly for it.

But Remus couldn't imagine _ever_ treating his mother badly. Why should his mother be treated badly just because she was different? Remus loved both of his parents equally, but they were very different—and Remus loved that even more. He loved talking about Boggarts, and poltergeists, and Hinkypunks with his father, while painting, and cooking, and exploring dusty old record stores with his mother. And his favorite time of the day was dinnertime—when Daddy came home from work, and the entire family sat down for dinner in their cozy cottage—and his parents' worlds collided.

"Where's Daddy?" Remus frowned at his mother, as she began arranging placemats on the table.

Mummy paused in the act of laying out spoons and glanced at her watch. "He's a little late, love," she said reassuringly. "But he'll join us when he comes home."

Mummy set a bowl of stew in front of Remus, and he picked up his spoon and began to ladle stew into his mouth, listening raptly to stories about princesses, knights, dragons, and unicorns. And every few minutes, he would chime in—because thanks to Daddy, he happened to know quite a lot about dragons and unicorns.

But then, all too soon, dinner was over, and the sky outside the cottage became a dark blue, and Daddy still wasn't home. Mummy picked up the dishes and placemats and walked to the sink, but Remus saw that she kept looking at the front door. Finally, when she had finished washing all of the plates, spoons, and forks, she came back to Remus's chair and kissed the top of his head.

"Bedtime," she announced, scooting his chair backwards and giving him a gentle pat on the back.

Remus frowned at her, as he clambered out of his chair and followed her up the nearby staircase. "Where's Daddy? He promised to read Babbitty Rabbity!"

Mummy smiled, ruffling his hair—but Remus thought that something felt wrong. The smile didn't light up her face or crinkle her eyes the way that it normally did.

"He'll be home soon, Remus," she said, pushing open his bathroom door. "But it's time for you to brush your teeth and go to bed. Mummy will read you Babbitty Rabbity tonight, all right?"

Remus's face fell. He opened his mouth to complain—but then, he remembered what Daddy had told him about treating Mummy differently, and he closed his mouth again.

So, twenty minutes later, Mummy tucked Remus into bed with a story from Remus's leather-bound copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , a tight hug, and a kiss on the forehead. Closing his eyes and yawning contentedly, Remus curled into the warmth of his quilts. Then, Mummy blew out the gas lamp, and within minutes, Remus was sound asleep.

He had a very frightening dream that night. At first, it was very pleasant. He was skipping through the forest near his house in the late-afternoon sun, his parents strolling together a few feet behind him. But then, suddenly, it was nighttime, and his parents were gone, and Remus was alone. Moonlight was filtering palely through the branches. A twig snapped, and Remus jumped in fright and began scurrying through the thicket, heart pounding. A dark shadow was lurking somewhere in the trees behind him—he could hear breathing—low, ragged, and raspy—so he began to run faster, his heart leaping up to his throat, a chill gripping his neck, as he ran, faster and faster—

 _SLAM_.

Remus let out a strangled cry of terror and sat bolt upright in bed, chest heaving and eyes burning with tears. For several moments, he simply sat there, wondering what had awoken him—but then, he heard muffled voices from downstairs, and his heart leapt. His father was finally home.

Stumbling out of bed, Remus hurried out of his bedroom and onto the second floor landing. The corridor was dark, but a lamp was lit downstairs, so Remus began to tiptoe down the staircase. He was only a few steps away from the foot of the stairs, when he heard his parents' hushed, frantic voices.

"…but _how_ could this happen? _How_ did he get away?"

"Because the rest of the committee was blind, Hope! Now, they've turned this monster—this soulless, evil monster—completely loose!"

" _Lyall!_ " Mummy sounded terrified. Remus's insides turned to ice.

"Don't be scared—it serves them right, the blundering idiots! One of these days, that vile beast is going to come after one of them, and they're going to wish they listened to me!"

"But—Lyall—all of those things you said about him—what if he comes after _you?_ "

" _Ha!_ " Daddy let out a loud noise that made the hairs on the back of Remus's neck stand on end. "Let him! That foul, murderous animal deserves nothing but death!"

Remus's eyes filled with tears. He didn't understand what his parents were saying, but he had never heard his father speak with such cold, hateful anger. Nor had he ever heard his mother sound so frightened. Swallowing, Remus quickly padded back up the staircase and sprinted into his bedroom. With a hearty sniff, he leaped into his bed and burrowed under his bedclothes, wrapping his quilts around himself tightly and squeezing his eyes shut. It took several, fitful moments, but eventually, he drifted back to sleep.

After that, it was a silent night. Lyall and Hope locked the front door, latched the windows, blew out the gas lamps downstairs, and retreated to bed, as well. A heavy layer of melting sleet blanketed the ground, the drive, and the row of oak trees leading up to the Lupins' Welsh cottage, and a sharp wind whistled through the terrain, rustling blades of grass and rearranging leaves. All was calm.

But a dark shadow was was looming over the Lupins' front drive. A tall, large, grizzly man with matted gray hair was leaning against a nearby oak tree, gazing up at the house—at Remus Lupin's bedroom, which overlooked the yard. The man wore filthy clothing, rags that were ripped in several places, exposing his gnarly skin. Folding his arms across his chest, the man cocked his head to the side, and slowly, a broad grin began to spread across his face—exposing his pointed, yellowing teeth.

And then, in another instant, the man slipped back into the shadows of the trees and was gone.

* * *

Author's Note:

I hate you, Greyback.

I hope I captured the essence of Remus's personality. Writing children's perspectives is not my strong suit, but I think I managed all right here.

Hope you all enjoyed this! I'd love to hear what you think.

Ari


	3. Bitten

16 February 1965

"…and no witch or wizard was ever persecuted in the kingdom again," Daddy finished, smiling at Remus and closing the large, leather-bound storybook.

Remus grinned at his father, bouncing excitedly on his knees and making his pillows jump up and down on his bed. "Read it again, Daddy!"

Daddy laughed and shook his head, as he carefully placed the storybook on Remus's bedside table. "You've heard me read this story a hundred times, young man. Aren't you bored of it yet?"

Remus gasped in horror. " _No!_ Babbitty Rabbity is my favorite!"

Daddy smiled. "If you say so," he said softly, leaning forward and smoothing Remus's flyaway fringe out of his eyes. "How about this? If you sleep now, Daddy will read you Babbitty Rabbity tomorrow morning before he leaves for work. Does that sound good?"

Remus's eyes lit up. He rarely got to spend time with Daddy before he left for work. "Yes!" he cried happily, leaping up and flinging his little arms around his father's neck.

Daddy chuckled, lifting Remus up and squeezing him in a tight hug. Then, gently, he lowered Remus back down to the bed and tucked him securely beneath his blankets. With a flick of his wand, Daddy sent the leather-bound storybook soaring back into the bookshelf in the corner of the bedroom. Then, with another flick of his wand, Daddy blew out the gas lamp, so that the room was suddenly bathed only in the moonlight that was glowing radiantly from the outline of the large, full moon outside, just visible over the tips of the oak trees in the front garden.

Bending down, Daddy kissed Remus's forehead. "Goodnight, son," he murmured.

"'Night, Daddy," Remus said sleepily, his eyes already growing heavy.

Daddy turned around and walked towards the bedroom door. But then, just as he heard the creak of the doorknob and the soft groan of the door opening, Remus suddenly remembered something.

"Daddy?" he called.

Daddy paused in the doorframe, glancing over his shoulder. "Yes, Remus?"

"What's…what does p-persecuted mean?"

Daddy was quiet for a moment. Remus frowned, peering through the darkness at the outline of his father in the doorway. Then, finally— "It means…to treat someone unkindly, because they're different from you," Daddy said softly. "It's not a nice thing at all, and we should never do it. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, Daddy," Remus replied, very seriously.

Daddy chuckled quietly. "Sleep tight, love," he whispered, before slipping out of the room and disappearing down the hallway.

Remus closed his eyes, his mind dancing with visions of cackling tree stumps, foolish kings, and unfair punishments. Then, he rolled over in bed and was instantly asleep.

It snowed that night. Gentle flakes, glowing luminously in the moonlight, drifted down from the black sky and blanketed the enormous front yard of the Welsh cottage. The branches of the oak trees shook in the biting wind, which was whistling very loudly—loudly enough to muffle the heavy footsteps of the gray blur that had suddenly appeared at the edge of the nearby forest and was now speeding down the Lupins' long drive, towards the house.

The gray blur—an enormous, four-legged animal, with large amber eyes—paused at the front porch of the house, gazing up at the second floor. Then, suddenly, with an impressive, almighty leap, the animal seized a nearby tree branch and ricocheted lightly onto the rooftop of the cottage. Stealthily pawing its way down the gutter, the animal made its way towards the window directly overlooking the front yard.

For a moment, the animal simply stared through the window, its breathing so raw and ragged that it was almost a snarl. The amber eyes were lit up by a glimmer of manic anticipation. Then, at last, the animal licked its lips, digging its hind legs into the gutter, as though preparing to pounce—

 _CRASH_.

Remus shrieked loudly, tumbling out of his bed as his window was blasted open. Tiny pieces of glass flew everywhere, and Remus shivered, as the cold wind blew through the open frame. But before he could see through the darkness, a big, gray, hairy dog leaped on top of him and knocked him over, grabbing his throat and pinning him to the ground. Then, the dog bent over, snarling—and suddenly, a horrible, horrible pain tore through Remus's neck—he saw yellowy teeth—long nails—orange eyes—

"BOMBARDA!"

With a loud _BANG_ , the big gray animal was flung away from Remus, and onto the bed.

"CONFRINGO! _EXPULSO!_ _PROTEGO TOTALUM!_ "

There was a blaze of fire and another loud _BANG_ —Remus heard a yelp of pain, but it sounded very far away—he tried to gasp for air—but a hot liquid filled his mouth—and he choked, eyes filling with tears—and the room begin to spin—

"He's running towards the forest!" Remus heard his father's voice, very loud and very angry. "I'm going after him!"

"NO, LYALL!" Mummy screamed, and suddenly, through his half-closed eyes, Remus saw her white face appear above his, tears pouring down her cheeks. "REMUS! _REMUS!_ "

Remus wanted to cry out to her, but he couldn't move his face—or his arms—his legs—

" _Hope, don't leave his side!_ " Daddy's voice was worse than Mummy's. "I need to get some potions!"

Heavy footsteps thundered out of the room and echoed down the stairs—a warm hand suddenly clutched Remus's—and he forced his eyes open—looking up at Mummy's face—

"Please stay with me, baby," Mummy begged, her entire body shaking. "Please, love…please, Remus…"

Remus tried to focus his attention on Mummy's face—her brown eyes—her soft, blond hair—warm sunshine in a field of flowers—a dusty old record store—but the pain was too much, and Mummy's voice was so far away—Remus couldn't keep his eyes open—and he slipped into total blackness.

* * *

Remus's eyes felt very heavy and his head kept banging against his skull. His neck and his chest felt very hot, and he couldn't move his arms at all. A line of dreadful pain extended from one corner of his throat down to his collarbone.

Remus blinked slowly, opening his eyes. It took him a moment to realize where he was. He was in Mummy and Daddy's bed—in their bedroom—and sunlight was shining through the large windows. It was daytime. But for some reason, looking at the windows caused Remus to feel very sick, so he quickly looked away. Suddenly, he heard voices from outside the door.

With a jolt of relief and happiness, Remus recognized his father's, low and soft.

"Daddy," he whispered—but then, he immediately stopped talking. A horrible pain was ripping through his throat—it felt like a knife. He whimpered, closing his eyes, and two tears slipped down his cheeks and into his hair.

Suddenly, the door swung open and Mummy and Daddy ran into the bedroom, towards the bed.

" _Remus!_ " Mummy gasped, sitting down beside him on the bed and holding his hand. "Oh, my baby…my baby, you're awake…you're all right…"

Remus looked over Mummy's shoulder and saw Daddy standing right behind her. His face was white and filled with something that Remus had never seen before. Tears welled up in Remus's eyes.

"Daddy," he whispered again. For a second time, pain exploded in his throat, and he gave a sob, tears cascading down his cheeks.

"Don't talk, Remus, please," Daddy said hoarsely. He leaned down and gently smoothed several tufts of hair away from Remus's face. Then, suddenly, he stepped backwards, sniffing. "I—Hope, I-I'm going to go get him another pain potion—" he broke off, hurrying away from the bed and out of the room.

Remus looked at his mother, his eyes filling with tears again. " _Daddy_ ," he mouthed.

"He'll be back, love," Mummy's voice sounded very weak, and suddenly, all Remus wanted was to curl up in her arms and cry. "He'll be right back, I promise."

Remus looked into Mummy's warm, brown eyes, his chin trembling. " _It hurts_ ," he mouthed, as two more tears slid out of his eyes and down his cheeks.

Mummy closed her eyes and released a shaky sigh, scooting closer to Remus on the bed. Then, very, very gently, she slipped an arm around Remus's shoulders, leaning down and kissing the top of his head. "I know, baby," she whispered, stroking his hair. "I know it does, and Mummy is _so_ sorry. But you're my brave boy, remember? You're my strong boy…you're my sunshine boy…"

Remus nodded, his face glazed with hot tears. He closed his eyes and tried to take big, deep breaths, listening to Mummy's soft, warm voice, as it filled the room…

" _…You'll never know, dear, how much I love you…Please don't take my sunshine away…_ "

* * *

Author's Note:

I'm sorry, everyone! I know this was a sad chapter, but I promise you that the next chapter will be much happier. :)

Hugs and cookies,  
Ari


	4. Dumbledore

7 March 1971

Ten-year-old Remus yawned, rubbing his nose, as he turned a page of the book he was reading. Sighing and stretching out on the hearth, Remus rolled over onto his back and propped the book up against his knees.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the front door.

Remus looked up from his book, frowning. But he had barely closed his book and sat upright before there was a clatter of footsteps from the kitchen, and both of his parents flew into the sitting room, their faces set and white.

For several, long moments, everyone stood completely still, listening intently.

Then, there was a second knock—slightly louder this time and completely unmistakable.

Dad raised his hand and pressed his index finger to his lips, indicating for everyone to remain silent. Stealthily, he padded towards the sitting room window and carefully drew back the curtains, peering through the glass. Then, he gasped.

"Merlin's beard," Dad whispered, looking dumbfounded.

Remus set his book aside and climbed to his feet. "Who is it, Dad?" he asked curiously.

Dad whirled around, as though he had only just remembered that Remus was in the room. "Remus, go to your bedroom," he said in a strangled voice. "And lock the door, please."

Remus swallowed heavily and nodded, picking up his book and retreating to the staircase. Just as he was about to ascend the first step, he heard his father call, "Close all of the windows, Hope! And don't forget to double-latch the backdoor!"

Closing his eyes and releasing a sigh, Remus made his way up to the second floor landing and slipped into his bedroom, which was filled with approximately half a dozen unopened cardboard boxes. This was the third house that he and his parents had moved into this year, and it was only yet March. Dropping his book unceremoniously onto his desk, Remus crossed the room and halfheartedly tugged one of the boxes open, staring down into it.

There didn't seem to be any point in unpacking, now—not if Mum and Dad were already trying to conceal his existence from a nosy neighbor. At this rate, they would be packed up and on the road again by the following weekend.

Kicking moodily at a dust bunny that was hovering near the edge of his rug, Remus took several steps away from the pile of boxes and collapsed backwards onto his bed, gazing up at the ceiling. Dimly, he could hear the sounds of his parents rushing about downstairs, closing windows and sealing doors. _Or were they packing up the sitting room?_ Remus thought dully. _Perhaps they wouldn't make it to the following weekend, after all…_

It was a shame, really. Remus had actually begun to like their new house. For one thing, it had a spare bedroom, which meant that his father wouldn't have to move all of Remus's possessions out of his bedroom before every full moon. And for another thing, it was in a very peaceful, soothing part of Yorkshire. It reminded Remus of the house that he and his parents had lived in before Remus had been bitten: a cozy Welsh cottage on the outskirts of Cardiff, the first—the only—place Remus could truly remember calling home.

Rolling over onto his side, Remus stared out of his bedroom window and down at the gorgeous view of the countryside. It seemed as though, with each move his family made, the distance between their house and their neighbors' increased dramatically. Remus could just barely see the tip of his nearest neighbor's roof over the rolling green hills and unseasonably misty air. He wondered if they had kids his age—not that he would ever find out. But it was harmless to wonder…

Exhaling slowly and turning his back on his window, Remus listened again for the distant sounds of his parents securing the the house.

"Did you cast the sealing charm on the fireplace, Lyall?" Mum's muffled, agitated voice asked.

"I'm doing it now!" Dad responded, equally agitated.

Suddenly, there was a soft knock on Remus's bedroom door.

Remus stiffened, lifting his head up from his pillow. There was no way either of his parents could possibly have climbed the stairs so quickly. Besides, he could still hear their frantic footsteps downstairs. Holding his breath, Remus strained his ears and listened carefully for movement outside the door—but he heard nothing. Deciding that he had simply imagined the sound, Remus lowered his head again. But then—

"Remus?" asked an unfamiliar, but gentle voice. "May I come inside, please?"

Remus sat bolt upright in bed, staring at the door in shock. And before he could quite stop himself, he called apprehensively, "Who—who is it?"

"My name is Albus Dumbledore," replied the stranger in the same kindly tone.

Remus gaped at the door in disbelief. Albus Dumbledore? _The_ Albus Dumbledore? Instinctively, Remus turned and looked at the cardboard box at the top of the large pile, in which his collection of Chocolate Frog cards was stored. It was impossible—completely impossible—that _the_ Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of modern times, the defeater of the Dark wizard Grindelwald, could be standing outside his bedroom.

Trembling from head-to-toe, Remus slipped out of his bed and crept across the room. Then, very carefully, he unlocked his door and opened it a crack. A very tall, thin man with a crooked nose, extremely long silver hair, and an equally long silver beard was smiling down at him.

"Good afternoon, Remus," Professor Dumbledore said warmly, his bright blue eyes twinkling. "Do you know who I am?"

"Y-yes," Remus stammered weakly, stumbling backwards and allowing the man to stride into the room. "You—you're the headmaster of Hogwarts, and—and you taught my dad Transfiguration."

"Indeed," Professor Dumbledore beamed. "He was an excellent student of mine, your father."

Remus nodded fervently. "He—he always says that he loved your class."

Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "Well, as I understand it, Remus, you possess some magical aptitude of your own."

Remus swallowed, averting his eyes. "I'm learning how to control it," he whispered. "My dad's been teaching me, since I'm—since I won't be able to go to Hogwarts."

Professor Dumbledore raised his silvery eyebrows. "You can do magic already?"

"N-not really," stuttered Remus, suddenly terrified, as he remembered that underage magic was illegal. "It—it's nothing."

Professor Dumbledore frowned—but not unkindly. Rather, he looked thoughtful. "I don't believe that it's nothing," he said gently. "I would love to see what you can do."

Remus hesitated, biting his lip. But then, taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and cupped his hands together, extending them outward. After a few moments of intense concentration, he felt a flourishing, comfortable warmth spread to his fingertips and he opened his eyes to find a familiar red-gold flame crackling merrily on his outstretched palms. Then, a few seconds later, without meeting Professor Dumbledore's eye, Remus pulled his hands apart and the little flame went out with a soft _whoosh_.

Folding his arms across his chest, Remus stared down at his feet.

"That is very advanced magic, Remus," Professor Dumbledore said softly. "There are wizards older and far more experienced than you who would be incapable of casting such a spell nonverbally, even with a wand."

Remus looked up, surprised. The headmaster was smiling broadly, his blue eyes sparkling. Remus felt his cheeks grow hot, so he hastily looked down at his knees again.

There was a brief pause.

Then— "I know that you are a werewolf, Remus," Professor Dumbledore continued gently, and Remus's entire body went rigid. "And I don't think that your condition should prevent you from attending Hogwarts with all of the other witches and wizards your age."

Blank shock filled ever nerve in Remus's body. Openmouthed, he looked up at Professor Dumbledore. "What?" he whispered.

Professor Dumbledore smiled. "Why don't we go downstairs and discuss the situation with your parents?"

Remus nodded mutely, still furiously trying to process what he had just heard. Then, numbly, he turned and led the way out of his bedroom, down the staircase, and towards the sitting room.

Humming to himself, Professor Dumbledore wandered into the sitting room and took a seat on the floor next to the fireplace, flicking his wand at the grate. With a low rumble, it sprung to life, the flames crackling and dancing gaily. The new warmth filled Remus with an unexpected sense of comfort. Feeling completely at ease for the first time, Remus followed Professor Dumbledore into the room and took a seat opposite him on the hearthrug.

With another flick of his wand, Professor Dumbledore summoned a silver tray of crumpets from the kitchen counter and set them down on the floor between himself and Remus. Just then, there was a resounding _thud_ from somewhere above them. Professor Dumbledore glanced up at the ceiling, smiling bemusedly. Remus looked up, too, worried.

"Shall we play a game until your parents join us?" Professor Dumbledore suggested cheerfully. "What games do you enjoy, Remus?"

Remus swallowed a mouthful of crumpet and smiled shyly. "Er—I-I like Gobstones."

Professor Dumbledore beamed. "Gobstones, it is, then," he said happily. He waved his wand at the floor, and a Gobstones set appeared out of thin air. "Now, I must confess, it has been a few decades since I last played this game. Luckily, I have no qualms about losing to a very talented young wizard like yourself."

Remus grinned bashfully, pouring the Gobstones onto the rug.

Suddenly, there was a loud shriek from above. "LYALL! LYALL, HE'S GONE!"

" _What?_ What do you mean, he's _gone?_ He can't have left the house!"

Remus jumped, looking at Professor Dumbledore nervously. But the headmaster gave him a reassuring smile. "Your parents will be downstairs shortly."

Swallowing heavily, Remus nodded and flicked a Gobstone forward. Professor Dumbledore cocked his head to the side, scratching his beard and frowning thoughtfully, as he examined his own stones. But at that very moment, there was a thundering of footsteps from the nearby stairwell and Remus's mother appeared at the foot of the stairs, her blond hair disheveled and sweaty.

" _Remus_ ," she said breathlessly, clutching a hand to her heart. "We told you to stay up—" she broke off, spotting Professor Dumbledore. Her jaw dropped.

"Hello, Mrs. Lupin," Professor Dumbledore greeted her merrily. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I am the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Scotland."

Mum opened and closed her mouth soundlessly, her brown eyes wide with shock. "Remus," she whispered, without tearing her eyes away from Professor Dumbledore's. "Remus, come here."

"No, Mum, it's okay," Remus said earnestly. "Professor Dumbledore just wants to talk to us."

Mum raised a trembling hand and covered her mouth, shaking her head slowly. Then, she turned and bellowed up the stairs, "Lyall, come down here _now!_ "

There was a second thundering of footsteps from the staircase, and then, Dad appeared at Mum's shoulder, his expression terrified.

"Professor," he gasped, his eyes widening. "How did you—what are you doing here?"

Professor Dumbledore smiled. "I am here to discuss your son."

"What about him?" Dad demanded in a strangled voice. "He isn't eleven for another four days, and his Hogwarts letter isn't expected until—"

"Ah, but I believe I am correct in assuming that any number of Hogwarts letters delivered to your household would have gone unanswered," Professor Dumbledore said shrewdly, his blue eyes twinkling again.

Dad clamped his mouth shut and swallowed heavily. "Professor, you don't understand—"

"On the contrary, Mr. Lupin, I understand completely," Professor Dumbledore said gravely, climbing to his feet and sweeping towards Remus's parents, his resplendent blue robes rippling behind him. "I have a number of spies among the werewolves, and I became aware, very early on, of your son's condition. However, as Remus already demonstrates an extraordinary level of magical talent for his age—" Dad turned and shot Remus an inquisitive frown, causing Remus to blush and stare at his knees, "—I, for one, would feel utterly disheartened if he did not receive the proper education he deserves."

Dad sighed loudly, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. "Professor, it's not—I agree, but—there's no way—"

"Special preparations have been made," Professor Dumbledore continued calmly. "My new deputy headmistress has secured a comfortable house in the village of Hogsmeade, where Remus will be able transform in peace, guarded by many powerful spells and reachable only by an underground passage—"

"So she knows?" Mum spoke up, her tone frightened. "Your deputy—she knows?"

"As she is the one who oversees the registry of all magical children born in the United Kingdom and Ireland, I thought it wise to confide in her," Professor Dumbledore nodded seriously. "But I would trust Minerva with my life. I promise you that she will keep Remus's secret to herself."

Dad rubbed his eyes again. "But what about the rest of the staff—and the students? How can you be sure that—?"

"I do not intend to advertise Remus's condition," Professor Dumbledore interrupted evenly. "Only the heads of houses will be told, as well as our matron and our groundskeeper. But I trust each and every single one of them unconditionally. With their assistance, I can guarantee you that no one else in the school will have reason to believe that Remus is anything other than slightly ill."

Dad stared at Professor Dumbledore with a half-disbelieving, half-hopeful expression on his face. Remus crossed his fingers tightly in the pocket of his jumper.

Suddenly— "Lyall, I…I think we should let him go," Mum said softly, her warm, brown eyes on Remus. Everybody turned and looked at her. "This is his chance, Lyall. This is his chance to live a normal life. We can't possibly be the ones to stand in his way. This is exactly what we've always wanted for him."

Remus grinned broadly at his mother, who gave him a small smile in return. Then, Remus turned and looked at his father again. He was biting his lip, his dark eyes darting between Professor Dumbledore and Remus.

Finally, after several tense moments, he closed his eyes, released a deep breath, and nodded. "I agree," he said quietly.

A thrill of mingled astonishment and exhilaration shot down Remus's spine, as Professor Dumbledore clapped his hands together, beaming around at everyone.

"Excellent," Professor Dumbledore announced cheerfully, looking at Remus. "Well, then, it is ultimately your choice, Remus. Would you you like to attend Hogwarts?"

A thousand different fears, a thousand different doubts raced each other through Remus's mind—but they were quickly overpowered by an unfamiliar feeling of overwhelming, overwhelming joy that was spreading through his entire body, from his fingers to his toes, warming every inch of him.

"Yes."


	5. Sorting

1 September 1971

The Sorting Hat ended its lilting song on a long, rumbling note, and immediately, the Great Hall erupted with applause. Remus clapped along with the rest, watching in amazement as the hat gave one low bow to each of the house tables, before stiffening again.

Then, Professor McGonagall, the deputy headmistress, stepped forward, holding a long scroll of parchment. As she unfurled the scroll, she eyed the group of first years beadily. Remus glanced around at the group, as well. Everyone looked completely ashen with anxiety—save a select few. Two black-haired boys near the front of the queue were too busy snickering and elbowing each other in the ribs. A red-haired girl a few feet away from Remus was positively beaming, her shockingly bright green eyes alight with excitement. And a pair of tall, thickset boys near the back of the line were sporting extremely haughty expressions.

Remus turned back around to face the front of the hall, not quite sure how he ought to be feeling, himself. He was nervous, certainly…but for the time being, his overwhelming happiness towards being at Hogwarts at all seemed to be dispelling any particularly dark thoughts.

Saying goodbye to his parents, however, had been very, very difficult. Not until the final whistle had blown had it quite hit Remus that he wouldn't see them again until Christmas. For the first time in his life, he wouldn't spend the dreadful mornings after the full moons listening to his mother's warm, soothing voice…or the evenings before his transformations in his father's reassuring company…

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, and Remus gave a little start, straightening. The buzz of chatter in the hall died down at once.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted into your house," she explained crisply. She glanced down at the list through her square spectacles. "Aubrey, Bertram."

A sandy-haired, pale-faced boy scuttled to the front of the hall, trembling from head-to-toe. Remus heard one of the haughty-faced boys behind him snort audibly, and felt a small twinge of annoyance.

Bertram took a seat on the stool and lowered the hat onto his head. There was a moment's pause; then—

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat bellowed.

The second table from the left of the hall cheered and clapped loudly as Bertram, looking quite relieved, hurried to take his seat.

"Avery, Jasper."

One of the haughty-faced, thickset boys pushed and shoved his way up to the stool, and sat down, cramming the hat onto his head inelegantly.

"SLYTHERIN!" shouted the hat, and Jasper's face split into a broad, leering grin, as he yanked the hat off and stalked over to the table on the far left, which was applauding raucously.

"Black, Sirius."

A sudden movement from the staff table caught Remus's eye—a large, bald professor with a very thick, walrus-like mustache had leaned forward interestedly.

Remus watched as one of the black-haired boys that had been fooling around earlier swaggered confidently to the stool and dropped the hat over his eyes, smirking. There was a slightly longer pause this time, a minute or two of silence, as the hat deliberated.

Then, at last— "GRYFFINDOR!" the hat cried.

Sirius gave a loud yelp of glee, leaping from the stool and practically throwing the hat off. Bounding down the flagstone steps, Sirius grinned widely and slapped his black-haired, bespectacled friend a resounding high-five, before scampering off towards the Gryffindor table. But rather than sitting down immediately, he first stood up on the bench and stuck his tongue out in the direction of the Slytherin table. Remus turned to look. Two girls—one brown-haired and one blond—who were much older than him, but who resembled him a great deal, were gaping at him, looking utterly dumbfounded.

"Where're you hoping to go?"

Remus jumped, tearing his eyes away from the Slytherin table and turning to his left. A short, blond boy with a round, boyish face was looking up at him. His cheeks were slightly green—he was obviously nervous. Remus vaguely recognized him from the train; they had sat in the same compartment. Unless Remus was mistaken, his name was Peter.

"I don't know," Remus said quietly, just as "Bole, Octavia" joined the Slytherins. "My dad was in Ravenclaw, and it'd be cool to be in the same house as him. How about you?"

"My mum was in Hufflepuff, so I'll probably end up there, too," Peter said glumly, shrugging. "But Gryffindor looks amazing, doesn't it?" he asked, casting a longing look at the Gryffindor table.

Remus followed his gaze to where Sirius Black was having a very exuberant conversation with a Prefect. They certainly did look like a very friendly lot.

"Yeah, it does," Remus agreed softly.

The sorting ceremony continued, and one by one, the large group of first years filtered into the four house tables. "Byrd, Tabitha," "Cattermole, Reginald," and "Cauldwell, Erasmus" all joined Hufflepuff. Then, "Deverill, Catherine" became a Gryffindor, as did "Evans, Lily," the red-haired, green-eyed girl that Remus had noticed before.

"Frobisher, Geoffrey" became a Ravenclaw and "Griffiths, Honora" cantered happily off to the Gryffindor table. Meanwhile, a pair of ginger fraternal twins, "Gudgeon, Davey" and "Gudgeon, Gladys," both joined Hufflepuff.

And then, as the still-waiting crowd reshuffled into a smaller clump, a very, very dreadful thought occurred to Remus. What if the Sorting Hat didn't think he belonged in any of the houses—or at Hogwarts, at all? After all, the hat was said to be archaic—Godric Gryffindor's very own, according to _Hogwarts, A History_ , which Remus had read cover-to-cover on the train. What if the four founders hadn't believed werewolves to be worthy of a magical education? Perhaps, instead of shouting out a house, the hat would simply bellow, "WEREWOLF!" Panic rose suddenly in the back of Remus's throat like bile and he inhaled sharply.

"Are you all right?" Peter asked worriedly from his left.

Remus clenched his jaw and nodded stiffly, not trusting himself to speak.

"Helfer, Katarina" joined Slytherin…"Higgins, Marius" joined Hufflepuff…perhaps if Remus ducked to the back of the queue, he could make a dash for the Entrance Hall and escape…

"Inglebee, Amos" became a Ravenclaw, and "Little, Thomas" went to Hufflepuff—the moment, Remus realized, was seconds away—

"Lupin, Remus."

Remus's stomach swooped dizzyingly, and the din of the Great Hall faded into a plunging silence in his ears, barely audible over the screaming in his brain. Shaking, he broke free of the knot of first years and tottered towards the stool, glancing up at the staff table on the way. He remembered that some of the professors had been told of his condition, and despite his nerves, he tried to pick out which ones looked fearful, or disgusted…but as far as Remus could tell, they all simply looked curious…

Against all odds, Remus managed to reach the front of the hall. Then, swallowing heavily, Remus picked up the patched, tattered hat and placed it on his head, sinking down onto the stool. The hat fell over his eyes, and for a moment, there was complete silence.

Then, suddenly— " _Ah_ …" said a small voice in his ear. "Interesting… _very_ interesting…intellectually sound, I see…quietly ambitious, with a remarkable mind…and a thirst for knowledge…" the voice trailed off. "Hmm…but what's this? There's something more…"

Remus clenched the edges of the stool tightly, his heart pounding.

"I sense courage…strength of character…a great deal of resilience…"

Remus's eyes widened under the hat's folds and he stifled a gasp. _Courage? Strength? Resilience_ — _?_

"Ravenclaw would suit you very well, no doubt about it…" Remus closed his eyes, bracing himself, "but I think you'd do better in…GRYFFINDOR!"

Remus heard the hat scream the last word to the entire hall and felt his heart leap into his throat. Dimly, he was aware of the hat being lifted from his head and of Professor McGonagall giving him a gentle pat on the back. Then, utterly dumbfounded, Remus rose and stumbled dazedly towards the riotously cheering Gryffindor table, falling into the empty seat between Sirius Black and Lily Evans.

"Where'd you get that scar on your face?" Sirius asked eagerly, as he reached out and shook Remus's hand.

"What?" Remus asked nervously, touching his cheek—there was a fading scar there, a painful souvenir from the most recent full moon in August. "Oh, I—er—I fell off a tree," Remus invented lamely.

Sirius's eyes gleamed. "Wicked!" he declared enthusiastically.

And in spite of himself, Remus grinned back at him, before facing the front of the hall again, where "Macdonald, Mary" was now being sorted. Absently, Remus glanced up at the staff table one more time. Professor Dumbledore was sitting at the very center, beaming contentedly. Then, rather unexpectedly, he turned and caught Remus's gaze, blue eyes twinkling as usual—and Remus could have sworn he saw him wink.

* * *

Author's Note:

Ten points to the Hogwarts house of your choice if you can identify every cameo in this chapter XD

I hope you enjoyed this! Drop me a line with your thoughts!

Ari


	6. Beginning

1 September 1971

The rest of the sorting ceremony passed without incident, and Gryffindor house welcomed four boys and five girls in total. One of these boys was Peter Pettigrew, the boy who had stood next to Remus in line. He took a seat several places down the table from Remus, looking absolutely thrilled to be in the house of his dreams, his round face flushed and his watery blue eyes alight with happiness. The other new boy, James Potter, was Sirius Black's bespectacled friend. He had squeezed himself onto the bench between Remus and Sirius, and he and Sirius had already put their heads together, whispering excitedly.

The first year Gryffindor girls also appeared to be very happy with their new home—all except for one, the red-haired girl sitting on Remus's right, Lily Evans. Remus had seen her face fall when one of the first year boys, "Snape, Severus," had been sorted into Slytherin. Now, she looked on the verge of tears. Remus wished he could say something to comfort her, but he wasn't quite sure where to begin.

Once all of the new students had settled down and Professor McGonagall had taken the Sorting Hat away, Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet, beaming around at the hall, his arms spread wide.

"Welcome, all, to a new year at Hogwarts," he said happily. "I have a number of important announcements to give you—but now is certainly not the time for it. So, as they say, eat, drink, and be merry!"

A great cheer and an outbreak of appreciative laughter rang throughout the hall, and Remus gasped, jaw dropping, as the dishes in front of him suddenly piled up with every type of food he could have imagined: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, jacket potatoes, mashed potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, steak-and-kidney pies, peas, carrots, and gravy. Remus's face split into a broad grin—and even Lily seemed to brighten slightly at the sight of the food. She began chatting with one of the other new girls, Mary Macdonald.

Stomach rumbling (he hadn't realized just how hungry he was until this moment), Remus immediately loaded his plate with steak, peas, and carrots. But as soon as he cut into his steak, his stomach dropped. It was cooked almost all the way through. At home, Remus's mother prepared his meat very rare. Swallowing nervously, he tentatively skewered a piece of steak with his fork, raising it to his eyes and examining it carefully. Then, he took a bite—and grimaced. It didn't taste right at all.

"All right there?"

Remus jumped, looking around. James Potter was eyeing him curiously.

Remus felt a heat creep up his cheeks. "Fine," he said quickly, putting his fork down. "The steak's just a bit…overcooked for me."

"Oh, well, take something else, then," James said good-naturedly, nudging a platter of bacon towards Remus.

Remus felt a pang of guilt, as he looked down at his practically untouched steak. "I don't want to waste anything."

James snorted. "Relax," he advised. "Look around—there's a reason they make so much food."

Remus glanced around the table and realized that almost everyone had served themselves far more food than they would be able to finish. Smiling slightly, he reached out and forked some of the bacon onto his plate.

"I'm James, by the way," James introduced himself, grinning and holding out his hand. "And this is Sirius." Sirius, whose mouth was stuffed with roast chicken, gave Remus a little wave.

Remus shook James's hand. "I'm Remus."

"Are you Muggle-born?" piped up Sirius, swallowing his mouthful of chicken so quickly that it made his eyes water.

"Er—no," Remus shook his head. "My dad's a wizard. My mum's a Muggle, though."

Sirius's bright gray eyes lit up. "Excellent!" he exclaimed.

Remus blinked, startled, wondering whether Sirius was having a go at him, but James laughed and rolled his eyes, elbowing Sirius in the ribs.

"Sirius's family is really strict about blood status," James explained, shaking his head. "He's never met anyone who isn't pure-blood before today. I'm pure-blood, too, but my parents don't care about that stuff."

"I'm the first Black in generations that isn't in Slytherin," Sirius added, and Remus thought he sounded rather delighted with himself. "Even Meda's in Slytherin, and she's the only normal one."

"Will your parents be angry with you?" Remus asked with a worried frown.

"Probably," Sirius shrugged unconcernedly, swallowing another mouthful of roast chicken and grinning hugely. "But who cares? It's only the first day, and I've already made friends with a blood traitor _and_ a half-blood! This is brilliant!"

James snorted with laughter, but Remus's heart did a somersault in his chest. _Friends?_ Having grown up in near-isolation, Remus had resigned himself early on to the fact that he would most likely not make friends very quickly—or quite frankly, at all. But here he was, on the very first evening, easily welcomed into a conversation with two cheerful and confident boys. A tingling happiness seemed to take root somewhere in Remus's chest, warming him from the inside. He beamed at Sirius.

Once all of the students had worked their way through dinner and dessert, and the noise level in the hall had begun to creep steadily upwards, Professor Dumbledore climbed to his feet once again. At once, the chatter in the hall ceased, as all heads turned to face the headmaster. Remus sighed contentedly, feeling pleasantly drowsy.

"Now that we are all fed and watered, I must ask for a few moments more of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," said Professor Dumbledore. "First years are forewarned that the forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds, and Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has also asked me to remind everyone that magic in the corridors between classes is strictly prohibited.

"Quidditch tryouts for the house teams will take place during the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house should contact Madam Hooch.

"And lastly, Professor Sprout, our lovely Herbology professor—" Professor Dumbledore gestured towards a squat little witch with wavy brown hair and a kindly smile, who was sitting at the staff table next to Professor McGonagall, "—has asked me to warn you all about a new tree that has been planted on our castle grounds this year. It is called a Whomping Willow and it has an incredibly vicious temperament. It is not to be approached by students under any circumstances."

Remus raised his eyebrows, turning to look at James and Sirius. Both were smirking devilishly, and Remus got the impression that Professor Dumbledore's warning about the Whomping Willow fell on deaf ears. He grinned.

"And now, it is time for bed! A very good night to you all!" Professor Dumbledore finished, clapping his hands, his eyes twinkling as usual.

There was a deafening scraping noise as the benches were pushed backwards, and suddenly, hundreds upon hundreds of students began swarming the aisles between the tables, filing out of the hall. Remus stared around in bewilderment, feeling quite overwhelmed.

"First years over here!" cried a female voice suddenly. "Gryffindor first years, please come with me and Frank!"

Remus looked around and saw a blond, sweet-faced Gryffindor Prefect and her partner attempting to shepherd the first years through the massive sea of people in the Great Hall. Falling into step beside James and Sirius, Remus followed the two Prefects out of the large double doors and into the enormous Entrance Hall. He was halfway up the grand marble staircase when he heard someone call his name.

"Mr. Lupin, may I have a word?"

Remus turned around, his stomach plummeting. Professor McGonagall was standing at the foot of the stairs, her expression stern. James and Sirius both skidded to a halt on the staircase, as well, and Remus could feel their curious gazes boring into his back. Avoiding making eye contact with either of them, Remus swallowed heavily and nodded, stumbling back down the stairs to join Professor McGonagall.

Professor McGonagall laid a hand on Remus's shoulder and threw a sharp look in the direction of the stairs. "Off you go, both of you! Mr. Longbottom and Miss Fawley are waiting!"

Remus looked around just in time to see James and Sirius scramble up the marble staircase to rejoin the two Prefects and the rest of the Gryffindor first years. Cheeks burning, Remus glanced up at Professor McGonagall.

"Did I do something wrong, Professor?"

Professor McGonagall looked at him, and Remus thought he saw her expression soften slightly. "Not at all, Mr. Lupin," she assured him firmly. "But if you could follow me, please."

Stomach churning, Remus trailed across the enormous Entrance Hall after Professor McGonagall. All around, students were still milling about, chatting and laughing, as they made their way towards different staircases. Quickening his pace, Remus followed Professor McGonagall into the same small, private chamber off the hall where she had addressed the first years prior to the sorting ceremony.

Turning around to face him, Professor McGonagall conducted a shrewd, swift sweep of the chamber with her sharp green eyes. Then, she looked at Remus. "I'm very sorry about this, Mr. Lupin, but I couldn't risk being overheard. If any of your housemates ask you what this meeting was about, you may tell them that there was an issue with identifying your luggage."

Remus's stomach twisted into a knot. Suddenly, he had a fairly good idea of what was coming.

Professor McGonagall eyed him closely through her square spectacles. "As the first full moon of the term is this Sunday, I would like to discuss with you the preparations that have been made to accommodate your condition. I know that Professor Dumbledore briefly explained the situation to you and your parents in March, but I would like to ensure that there are no further surprises." She paused, and Remus shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "What do you know so far, Mr. Lupin?"

Remus folded his arms across his chest, staring down at the floor. "Professor Dumbledore said that…you found a—a house in the village."

"That is correct," Professor McGonagall said briskly. "Each month, before the full moon, Madam Pomfrey, the school matron, will accompany you to the house. Then, she will return to collect you in the morning."

Remus looked up and met her gaze, frowning. "How will we get there, Professor?"

"An underground passage had been constructed, directly connecting the house to the school grounds—"

"A passage?" Remus asked, frightened. "What if somebody finds it?"

A corner of Professor McGonagall's lips seemed to twitch. "The entrance to the passage is located at the base of the Whomping Willow, the particularly vicious tree that Professor Dumbledore warned the students about in his speech. I can assure you, Mr. Lupin, that it would be impossible to access this passage without the proper knowledge."

Remus remembered the mischievous grins on James's and Sirius's faces when Professor Dumbledore had first mentioned the tree, and he felt a twinge of unease. However, he nodded.

Professor McGonagall gave him another searching look. "In the meantime, Mr. Lupin, it is my duty and my privilege as your head of house to assist you in any way that I can. Please do not hesitate to contact me—or the other heads of houses, Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, and Professor Slughorn—if there is anything troubling you at any time. Aside from the four heads, Madam Pomfrey and Hagrid—the groundskeeper—are the only ones who know of your condition. The rest of the staff has simply been told that you are ill—and I strongly advise you against contradicting this notion and revealing the true nature of your condition to anyone else."

Remus nodded again. If it were up to him, _nobody_ would know of his condition. He was already feeling quite uncomfortable that so many of his professors were aware of it.

But then, Remus felt a pang of shame. He was being incredibly ungrateful. Professor Dumbledore had only divulged Remus's secret to his most trusted staff members—and it was for the sake of Remus's own safety. And after all, if it weren't for Professor Dumbledore, Remus wouldn't be at Hogwarts at all.

Forcing his lips into a smile, Remus looked up at Professor McGonagall. "Thank you very much, Professor."

Professor McGonagall gazed at him for a moment, and for the briefest second, Remus thought he saw a flicker of sadness in her eyes. But then, the next instant, it was gone. "It is my pleasure, Mr. Lupin," she told him with a thin smile. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

* * *

Author's Note:

EEP! Sorry for the long gap between updates! Life has been a whirlwind lately. I hope this makes up for it. :) Do drop me a review! I'd love to know your thoughts.

Ari


	7. Peter

6 September 1971

Remus trudged slowly up to the first year boys' dormitory, late in the evening. A heavy, draining pain was weighing on his back and shoulders, and two or three angry red scratches were still burning on his collarbone, despite the copious amounts of harsh-smelling ointment that Madam Pomfrey had applied to them—though, fortunately, they were well-hidden by his robes.

Overall, the first full moon away from home had not been quite as dreadful as Remus had been anticipating. The shack in Hogsmeade where he had transformed was certainly eerie, but it was also enormous and open, and Madam Pomfrey had been at his side the very instant he had awoken in the morning. Remus had spent the entire day after the full moon recuperating in the Hospital Wing under her watchful eye—the school matron had fussed over him almost as much as his own mother did at home. By dusk, Remus had actually begun to wonder if she would ever let him leave.

But on the whole, Remus was enjoying school immensely. His classes were fascinating—particularly Defense Against the Dark Arts, which was taught by a young, enthusiastic professor named Professor Belby. Rumor had it that he was an up-and-coming potioneer, and had only returned to teach at Hogwarts for a year, while he conducted research with Professor Slughorn, the Potions master—which Remus thought was a pity. He very much liked Professor Belby and knew that he would be sad to see him go. Apart from Defense Against the Dark Arts, Remus was doing quite well in almost all of his other classes. Potions was proving to be his only real weakness—and it certainly didn't help that Professor Slughorn was always a little skittish around him, though Remus was fairly certain that this had little to do with his Potions abilities.

Remus couldn't bring himself to feel too sorry about this, however, because for the first time in his life, he had _friends_ —two wonderful friends in James Potter and Sirius Black, who genuinely seemed to _value_ Remus's presence. Remus had already gotten his first detention for hanging around them, but he didn't mind in the slightest. Besides, for his detention, Professor McGonagall had simply assigned him to assist the groundskeeper, Hagrid, in his pumpkin patch for a few hours—and by the end of it, Remus had felt as though he'd found another friend at Hogwarts.

Releasing a tired sigh, Remus pushed open the door to his dormitory and wandered inside. James and Sirius were conspicuously absent, despite the fact that curfew was only a half-hour away, but Peter Pettigrew was curled up on his bed, frowning down at his Potions spellbook and nibbling on the end of a quill. Remus felt a pang of guilt at the sight of Peter. At the start of the term, Remus had resolved to include Peter in his unexpected friendship with James and Sirius; after all, there were only four first year Gryffindor boys—it seemed almost a crime to exclude anyone. But over the past several days, Remus had been having such a grand time with James and Sirius that he'd quite forgotten about his initial inclination to involve Peter. Neither James nor Sirius was particularly receptive to him, and Remus hadn't wanted to force the issue.

Now, however, ignoring his own exhaustion and aching limbs, Remus made up his mind. "Hello, Peter," he greeted the round-faced boy kindly, walking up to his four-poster bed with a smile. "What're you working on?"

Peter jumped, sitting up and shooting Remus a wide-eyed look. "P-Potions," he stammered.

"Oh," Remus nodded understandingly. "Slughorn's essay?"

Peter sighed despondently. "I've got no idea what I'm doing," he mumbled, holding up a sheet of parchment that had half a paragraph scrawled onto it, with many crossings-out and ink splotches. "I'm rubbish at Potions."

"Potions isn't really my strong suit, either," Remus assured him bracingly, remembering the Cure for Boils that he'd concocted during their last class—Slughorn had deemed it merely 'passable.' "But if you want, we can work on the essay together."

Peter looked at him in amazement. "R-really?"

"Of course," Remus said firmly, feeling the knot of guilt in the pit of his stomach twist painfully. He wished he'd made an effort to talk to Peter earlier. "In fact, I'll get my notes, now, if that's okay with you."

"Yeah!" Peter said enthusiastically, sitting up straight and moving some of his stuff to make room for Remus.

Remus grinned, heading over to his bed and rifling through the schoolbag that hung from the footboard. Pulling out his own Potions spellbook and half-completed essay, he walked back to Peter and perched himself on the foot of his bed.

They worked together for nearly forty minutes, comparing notes and developing arguments for their papers. Peter, it transpired, was not as unintelligent as he seemed to think he was—he simply lacked confidence in his abilities, Remus noticed. However, once Remus explained certain portions of the text to him in detail, he was able to catch on, even if it took several tries. Remus, for his part, didn't mind having to teach and reteach the material—in fact, he rather enjoyed it.

"So, I think that if you just shift these two sentences up to your introduction, you'll be good to go," Remus told Peter, pointing to a few lines in Peter's second paragraph.

Peter beamed at him. "Thanks, Remus. This was really helpful."

Remus grinned. "No problem," he said warmly.

There was a moment of silence, as Remus began collecting all of his parchment and tucking them neatly into his Potions spellbook, preparing to head back to his own bed.

Then, suddenly— "How'd you get them to like you?" Peter blurted out.

Remus looked up, frowning; Peter's face had turned bright red and he looked very embarrassed.

"Sorry?" Remus asked confusedly.

"James and Sirius," Peter mumbled, avoiding Remus's eye. "How…how'd you get them to like you? I—I try to be nice to them—but I think…I think they think I'm too stupid to be their friend."

"You're not stupid, Peter," Remus said sharply. "And James and Sirius _do_ like you—"

"They barely notice me," Peter interrupted gloomily. "I'm not their friend—not really, anyway. Not like…not like you."

Remus stared at Peter, unsure of how to respond. He wanted to deny it, but he knew Peter wouldn't believe him. James and Sirius _were_ rather insensitive sometimes—and unfortunately, Peter happened to fall under that category. Biting his lip, Remus racked his brain for a something comforting to say—but at that very moment, the dormitory door swung open, and James and Sirius themselves tumbled inside, their faces flushed and their eyes alight with excitement.

" _Remus!_ " James crowed, sprinting over to Peter's bed and throwing an arm around Remus's neck. A twinge of pain jolted through Remus's shoulders—still sore, as he was, from the full moon—but fortunately, James seemed not to notice. "Where _were_ you today? You weren't in classes—or at meals!"

There was a slightly tense pause, as Sirius and Peter both turned to look curiously at Remus, as well. Remus felt a heat creep up his cheek, but he determinedly kept his tone nonchalant. "I was just feeling a little ill," he sighed, shrugging. "Madam Pomfrey made me stay in the Hospital Wing all day."

" _That_ explains why you look so awful," Sirius said, grinning wickedly.

Remus raised his eyebrows at Sirius. "Reckon I still look better than you," he said innocently.

James laughed loudly and leaped to his feet, tackling Sirius and mussing his hair. " _When_ will you learn not to try and outwit Remus, you git?"

Remus grinned broadly, watching Sirius yelp in pain and struggle against James's grip. Finally, gasping for breath, Sirius managed to extricate himself, and he straightened up, throwing James a dirty look. James merely smirked.

"Anyway, we've got brilliant news!" Sirius turned back to Remus, practically floating with excitement. "We bullied one of the portraits on the third floor into telling us where the kitchens are! They're down the basement staircase in the Entrance Hall! We just need to tickle the pear!"

"Tickle the pear?" Remus repeated slowly, bewildered. "What on Earth does that mean?"

"Dunno, but it sounds promising!" James chimed in, grinning. "I think we should go check it out tonight."

"I'm in," Sirius said promptly.

"Excellent! How about you, Remus?" James asked brightly.

Remus looked nervously between James and Sirius, biting his lip. "It's…it's fifteen minutes past curfew."

James snorted, waving his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about that," he said confidently. "I've got an Invisibility Cloak. We won't even have to be seen."

Remus stared at James in amazement. From what he'd read about them, Invisibility Cloaks were incredibly rare. But then again, from what he'd learned about James in the past several days, his family was an old, well-respected, and wealthy one—it seemed quite likely that James would have been given an Invisibility Cloak.

"C'mon, Remus," James persisted. "I bet they have chocolate down there. Think about how _good_ a slab of Honeydukes' finest sounds right now. Plus, it'll help you feel better! Chocolate's medicinal."

Remus raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Who taught you that?"

"My mum," James shrugged. "She used to give me chocolate whenever I was ill. Although, now that I think on it, she might've just been trying to bribe me into keeping my gob shut. I'm really annoying when I'm ill."

Sirius snorted. "Because you're such an _angel_ otherwise."

James punched Sirius's shoulder, though he laughed. Remus grinned, shaking his head. Then, finally, with a relenting sigh, he slipped off of Peter's bed and stood upright. "All right, I'll come."

James and Sirius let out loud, triumphant whoops of glee, slapping a high-five. Rolling his eyes but feeling quite pleased nonetheless, Remus turned around to gather his Potions materials from where they lay on Peter's bed—but then, he froze. Peter had climbed under his bedcovers and was staring up at the ceiling with a miserable expression. Remus's stomach plummeted to his feet. He swallowed heavily.

Then, crossing his fingers tightly in the pocket of his robes, he turned back around to face James and Sirius. "Hey—can Peter come with us?"

James and Sirius stopped celebrating and looked at Remus in surprise.

"Peter?" James asked dumbly.

"Yeah," Remus gestured towards where Peter was now sitting up in bed, gazing at Remus with a flabbergasted expression.

James and Sirius looked at each other for a moment. Then, shrugging identically, they turned to face Peter. "Yeah, I guess he can come," said James. "The Cloak's big enough."

Remus's heart lifted. Glancing over his shoulder, he grinned at Peter.

Peter beamed back at him.

* * *

Author's Note:

I think I'm going to start updating this story on Wednesdays! :)

Ari


	8. Secret I

18 September 1971

"Mates!" Sirius's face was white to his lips, as he scrambled through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room. "Mates, you'll never believe what's happened!"

Remus, James, and Peter all looked up from their table in the corner of the common room, where Remus was helping Peter prepare for a Defense Against the Dark Arts test and James was reading _Seeker Weekly_.

At the sight of Sirius's expression, James dropped his magazine, eyes growing wide. "What—?"

"One of the Gudgeon twins almost just died," Sirius blurted out, without preamble. "I was walking by the Whomping Willow with my cousin, and I saw a bunch of Hufflepuffs playing this game, trying to get close enough to the trunk to touch it. Well, Gladys Gudgeon managed to dodge the branch just in time—but Davey nearly lost his _eye!_ "

A sickening, swooping sensation filled Remus's stomach. His quill fell to the table with a clatter.

"Remus?" Peter asked, looking at him worriedly.

Remus ignored him, too preoccupied with gaping at Sirius. "Is—is Davey all right?" he croaked.

"What? Oh, yeah," Sirius said dismissively. "He broke a few ribs—it's nothing that Madam Pomfrey can't put right." He turned to James. "But I heard Sprout telling McGonagall that she's going to start handing out detentions to students who get too close to the tree."

"Not surprising," James breathed, picking up his magazine again and leaning back in his chair. "It's a shame, though. I never got to have a look at it."

"Yeah, well, I don't much fancy wearing an eyepatch for the rest of my life, either," Sirius snorted, dropping into the chair next to James's. He paused for a moment, frowning off towards a point in the distance. Then, he gave his head a little shake. "It's weird, isn't it?"

"What's weird?" Peter piped up.

"That tree," Sirius said slowly. "It's weird that they planted it at all. Meda—my cousin—told me that they've never had anything like it on the grounds before."

James's expression became very thoughtful. "Yeah…yeah, it is weird."

Remus's heart was hammering so heavily against his chest that he thought it might leap out through his throat. "It's not that weird," he said in a strained voice. "Hagrid's got loads of crazy plants in the forest."

Sirius raised his eyebrows at him. "Hagrid?" he asked curiously. "You mean, that massive bloke with the boats on the first night?"

"He's the groundskeeper," Remus explained.

"When did you talk to him?" James asked, looking surprised.

"I visit him almost every other day," Remus shrugged. It was the truth—ever since his first detention with the groundskeeper, Hagrid had become something of an unexpected friend to Remus. He was kind, and warm, and easygoing—and it was nice to have someone to talk to who knew his secret and appreciated his company in spite of it.

"Really?" James sounded eager now. "What kind of stuff has he got in the forest?"

Utterly relieved by this shift in the conversation, Remus was only too happy to ignore his Defense Against the Dark Arts homework for the rest of the night and spend the next several hours recounting to his friends every single detail he could remember Hagrid telling him about the Forbidden Forest and the things it housed.

* * *

22 September 1971

"Hmm…let's see…Potter and Pettigrew, fine—Mr. Black, you're with Miss Griffiths today. I don't trust you and Mr. Potter to work together anymore—now, who doesn't have a partner? Ah, Mr. Lupin—you can partner with Mr. Cattermole," Professor Sprout said, smiling at Remus. "Nothing wrong with a little inter-house camaraderie, I think."

Remus looked around and saw a small, skinny, ferrety-looking Hufflepuff boy with gingery-brown hair waving timidly at him from across the classroom. Remus gave him a friendly wave in return, before picking up his schoolbag and walking over to him.

"Hi," he greeted Remus shyly, as he approached. "I'm Reginald—Reg Cattermole."

"Remus Lupin," Remus replied amiably, shaking his hand.

Reg looked at him curiously. "Are you related to Lyall Lupin by any chance?"

Remus stared at him, nonplussed. "I'm his son," he said, without thinking. "Er—how—?"

"He's a good friend of my dad's," Reg explained, smiling at him. "They work together at the Ministry—for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I remember meeting him when my dad took me to work, one time." He paused, frowning slightly. "He never mentioned he had a son."

Remus's heart gave a painful twinge.

* * *

26 September 1971

"It is my pleasure to welcome you all to the team," said Gobstones Captain Marlene Cresswell curtly, gazing sternly around at the small group of first year students gathered in the Charms Classroom. "The Hogwarts Gobstones Team is a crown jewel of the school. It was established by Lady Rowena Ravenclaw herself, and we are considered the best school team in all of Europe. Being a part of the team is something to be proud of—but it is also a responsibility. We meet every Monday at six o'clock in the evening. If you miss a meeting without good reason, you will be dismissed from the team. Am I clear?"

There was a murmur of assent from the group of students, and Remus saw a couple of Ravenclaws exchange raised eyebrows.

Marlene lifted her chin, her shrewd, dark eyes piercing. Then, she gave the group an unexpected, thin-lipped smile. "Excellent," she said crisply. "I looking forward to working with you all. Have a good evening."

There was a scraping of chairs being pushed back and a rustle of robes, as students began trooping out of the classroom. Remus waited until the last couple of first year Hufflepuffs disappeared down the corridor before he swallowed heavily, shuffling up to the front of the classroom, where Marlene was adjusting her blue-and-bronze Head Girl badge.

"Erm—Marlene?"

Marlene looked up, eyebrows raised. "Yes?"

"I—" Remus averted his gaze, crossing his arms. "I—er—I'm really, really sorry, but—I don't think I'm going to be able to make it to—to next Monday's meeting."

Marlene frowned at him. "Why not?"

"I-I—" Remus stammered, swallowing. "I just—have to go home," he invented wildly.

Marlene's eyes narrowed. "As I said in my speech, unless you have good reason, I can't allow—"

"My mum's ill," Remus blurted out, his cheeks flushing with color. The lie left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he found himself suddenly unable to meet Marlene's gaze.

* * *

2 October 1971

"How ill is she?" James whispered, climbing out of his bed and walking slowly towards Remus, his eyes wide.

"Quite ill," Remus said in a low voice, staring fixedly down at the ground. "I have to go home to see her—"

Remus broke off abruptly, as he suddenly found himself in the fiercest hug he had ever experienced. His body went rigid with guilt, and he tried to pull away, but James only held onto him tighter.

"She'll be fine," James said forcefully, clapping Remus's back. "I'm sure of it, Remus. She—she'll be okay."

"Yeah, Remus," Sirius said quietly from his own bed, his expression uncharacteristically somber. "She's going to be fine."

"'Course she will," Peter added, looking thoroughly upset.

Remus nodded, unable to speak, as the knot of guilt in the pit of his stomach suddenly lodged itself in his throat. Finally, after several more moments, he managed to garner the willpower to pull away from James's grasp.

"I'll only be gone for a couple of days," Remus mumbled. "I leave on Monday night—"

"We'll take notes for you," Sirius said fervently, and James and Peter chimed in their emphatic agreement.

With enormous difficulty, Remus swallowed the lump in his throat. "Thank you. And—erm—please don't say anything about this to anyone—"

"Of course, mate," James said earnestly, gripping Remus's shoulder.

Remus nodded mutely. Then, without meeting his friends' eyes, he turned around and climbed into his bed, drawing his curtains around him and feeling lonelier than he had ever felt before.

* * *

4 November 1971

"Thank you so much, Lily," Remus said gratefully, reaching across the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall and accepting a scroll of neatly-printed Potions notes from the red-haired girl. "I was so worried about this test. Peter's got a good heart, but his Potions notes are practically illegible."

"No problem," Lily Evans said brightly, as she began lathering jam onto a slice of toast. "Are you feeling better?" she added in a gentle voice.

Remus shrugged uncomfortably, tucking Lily's notes into his schoolbag. "Yeah, mostly," he murmured.

"You look better," Lily said warmly, reaching across the table and patting his hand. "You're still a little pale though. If you want, you can skive off Charms, and I'll explain it to Professor Flitwick—"

She was cut off by a resounding peal of laughter from the direction of the Entrance Hall. Both Remus and Lily whipped their heads around to look through the double doors. James and Sirius, with Peter hovering a few feet behind them, had their wands pointed at Lily's Slytherin friend, Severus Snape, whose sallow face was erupting with red boils.

"Oh, no," Remus muttered, pushing the bench back and setting off for the Entrance Hall—but Lily was way ahead of him. She had already drawn her wand and marched off towards the doors, her dark red braid flying behind her.

Drawing his wand as well, Remus hurried into the Entrance Hall and came to a standstill next to James and Sirius. Lily had gotten to her knees next to Snape and was trying to coax him into prizing his hands away from his face. "C'mon, Sev…we've got to get you to the Hospital Wing…"

"Why are you bothering, Evans?" James drawled with a wicked grin. "If anything, he looks better now that he's got some color in his face."

Sirius guffawed loudly, and Peter let out a nervous titter.

Lily leaped to her feet, her bright green eyes flashing. "You arrogant _git!_ " she spat, pointing her wand at him.

"Yeah, because _Snivellus_ is an innocent little Puffskein," James snorted derisively, glaring back at her.

"He's the one covered in boils, isn't he?" she shrieked, her face twisting with anger.

"James," Remus said in a low voice, stepping forward. "James, let's go."

He glanced over Lily's shoulder at Snape and was startled to find the stringy Slytherin boy gaping at his chest. Remus looked down, and with a jolt of horror, he realized that his robes had slipped off of his collarbone slightly, exposing a sliver of the thick red scratches he'd given himself during the full moon on Tuesday. Hastily, he jerked his robes straight—but Snape's eyes remained wide and shocked. Heart pounding now, Remus reached out and tugged on the sleeve of James's robes.

"James, please, let's just go," he said again, his tone slightly more urgent. He had just spotted the fifth year Gryffindor prefects, Frank Longbottom and Alice Fawley, coming down the nearby marble staircase. Any which way Remus looked at the situation, it could only get worse.

James exhaled impatiently, flinging one last glower at Snape and Lily. "Fine," he muttered mutinously, swiveling around and stalking off towards the double doors of the Great Hall with Sirius; Peter bobbed along in their wake. Swallowing heavily, Remus gave Lily an apologetic look, too afraid to meet Snape's eyes, before hurrying after his friends.

* * *

18 December 1971

As the Hogwarts Express cranked into the station, Remus and his friends clambered out with their trunks and were immediately separated by the thick steam of the platform. Craning his head, Remus wandered through the hordes of reuniting families for several minutes. He saw Lily hugging her friendly-faced, pot-bellied father. He saw Snape trailing after a thin, hunched, sallow-faced woman who looked remarkably like him. Then, at last, he saw them—his own parents, looking happier, healthier, and more relaxed than Remus could ever remember seeing them before.

"Remus!" Mum cried, hurrying forward and gathering him in a tight embrace. Remus hugged her back just as tightly, blissfully breathing in her familiar smell—rose oil, and cinnamon, and warmth. Embarrassed to find that his eyes were stinging, Remus blinked quickly and pulled away.

"Hi, Mum," he said softly, beaming at her.

Mum stepped back with her hands still on his shoulders and gave him an appraising look, though she was smiling. "You're too thin," she fussed. "Have you been eating—?"

"Let him breathe, Hope," Dad interrupted, chuckling under his breath, as he stepped forward and gave Remus a hug, too. "He's only been gone a couple of months, you know."

"Oh, I know, I know," Mum sighed, embracing Remus tightly again and kissing the top of his head. "But I'm just so glad he's home."

"Remus!" yelled a voice suddenly, and Remus spun around to see James and Sirius scurrying down the station towards him, waving enthusiastically. They were closely followed by a pair of kind-faced, gray-haired adults.

"Mum, Dad, these are my friends, James Potter and Sirius Black," Remus told his parents happily, as James and Sirius reached them, panting slightly.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Lupin," James said politely, and Remus couldn't help but grin. James was a natural when it came to charming adults; even Professor McGonagall seemed to harbor a soft spot for him, though Remus doubted she would ever admit it. "These are my parents, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter."

Remus glanced over James's shoulder—and did a double take. Up close, James's parents looked quite old enough to be his grandparents. Mr. Potter was tall and wiry with untidy gray hair, and apart from his bright blue eyes, he looked like an older version of his son. Mrs. Potter, meanwhile, was short and slender, with James's warm hazel eyes.

As Remus's parents stepped aside to greet Mr. and Mrs. Potter, Remus turned back to face James and Sirius.

"Where's Peter?" he asked, looking around.

"He and his mum left already," Sirius said, sounding slightly guilty—and Remus knew why. After more than three months of friendship, Remus, James, and Sirius had only a few days earlier discovered that the reason Peter had been raised by his single mother was because his father had left his wife and son when Peter was only a year old.

"I wanted to say goodbye to him," Remus said sadly.

"Don't worry, he'll understand," James said bracingly. "It's a madhouse around here anyway," he added, gesturing around at the still-swarming platform. "Besides, we'll all see each other in just a few weeks!" he continued excitedly. "My parents throw a massive New Year's Eve party every year. Sirius is coming home with me, so he'll be there—and I'll write Peter to tell him about it, too. Can you make it, Remus?"

Remus's heart fell. Unless he was mistaken, there was a full moon on New Year's Eve.

"I—I'll try," he said evasively. "I'll write you."

"Oh, yeah—what's your address?" Sirius asked, rummaging inside his jumper pocket for a quill.

Remus shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Er—I actually don't know my address yet. My parents moved a few weeks after I left for school." James and Sirius stared at him. "I'll write you first," Remus continued hastily, and James and Sirius looked satisfied—but only slightly.

"Why did your parents move?" Sirius wanted to know, frowning.

"Erm—they—they needed to move closer to—a hospital," Remus lied. "For my mum."

In actuality, Remus's parents had moved out of their Yorkshire home because they'd heard rumors of werewolf attacks in the neighboring village. Not wanting to risk drawing any unwanted attention to their family—particularly to their son, regardless of whether or not he was living at home—the pair had hastily packed up all of their belongings and moved to a sparse, quiet neighborhood in the West Country.

But James and Sirius were now looking at Remus with renewed sympathy.

"She's looking all right," Sirius said encouragingly, glancing over Remus's shoulder at his mother.

"Yeah, she's doing a bit better, now, I think…" Remus trailed off, looking at his mother over his shoulder, too, and silently praying that her conversation with Mrs. Potter would be over soon.

As though she sensed her son's gaze, Mum looked over and caught Remus's eye. Then, taking Dad's hand, she faced the Potters again. "Well, I think we'd best be heading off," she told them brightly. "Our house is rather far."

Remus turned back to his friends. "I'll see you both soon."

"Write to us as _soon_ as you're home," James commanded, shoving a rumpled scrap of parchment—with his address scrawled untidily onto it—into Remus's hands.

Remus laughed, tucking the parchment into his jeans pocket. Then, waving at his friends, he turned and followed Mum and Dad towards the barrier.

The drive home was a long one. The sun was already setting as they finally pulled into the driveway of a little bungalow on the outskirts of a quaint, quiet seaside village. As he climbed out of the car, Remus immediately recognized the smell of salt in the air, and he vaguely heard the distant sound of crashing waves.

"Where are we?" Remus asked his mother, as his father began lugging Remus's trunk down the drive.

"Tinworth, in Cornwall," Mum said, smiling at him. "It's a beautiful town, very peaceful—and I do love being so close to the water. It does wonders for the imagination." She drew an arm around Remus's shoulders and pulled him close. "Welcome home, love."

"Thanks, Mum," Remus said softly, as they began walking towards the porch together.

But then, at the front door, Mum placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from going inside. Remus looked up at her, frowning.

"Mrs. Potter kept asking me if I was feeling better," she told him quietly. Her tone was light, but Remus's stomach clenched nonetheless.

Swallowing heavily, he met her gaze. "I…I had to tell my friends that you were ill," he whispered. "And that I had to go home once a month to visit you."

"I thought it must be something like that," Mum sighed, looking sad for a moment. "I understand that you need to tell your friends something, love, but please be careful. A fib like this could very easily spiral out of control."

"I know," Remus said quickly, his stomach turning at the thought of his friends discovering his lie. "I've got it under control, Mum, I—I promise."

Mum gave him a small smile. "Of course you do, sunshine boy," she said softly, bending and kissing his head. "Come on, let's go inside. Your father's been dying to show you the new house."

* * *

25 December 1971

Remus could not remember having ever had a happier Christmas. His parents had clearly gone to great lengths to make their new home as cozy and festive as possible for Remus's homecoming. Every inch of the cottage's small sitting room was covered with red, green, and gold—garlands of holly and tinsel, strings of color-changing lights, and enormous, glowing baubles—and the tree in the corner of the room occupied a solid six feet of space in every direction. In fact, the angel at the top was curving quite impressively against the ceiling.

At the end of the night, Remus was curled up on the warm hearthrug with James and Sirius's Christmas present to him—a volume of books about the best defenses against Non-Human Spiritous Apparitions like Boggarts and Dementors. Remus's father had been quite as impressed with the books as Remus himself, and was currently tucked into his armchair by the fireplace, leafing through one of them. Mum, meanwhile, was fast asleep in her own chair, while her gramophone on the coffee table stuttered out an old Muggle Christmas ballad.

Yawning contentedly, Remus rolled over onto his stomach and flipped a page of his book. A moving diagram of a Boggart being banished into a wisp of smoke caught his eye and he gently smoothed the page out with his palm, staring at it. He had never seen a real Boggart before. Briefly, he wondered what form it would take for him—but the answer came to him almost immediately. Pressing his lips together, Remus glanced in the direction of the sitting room window. The waxing moon was glowing luminously in the sky outside, starkly white against the branches of the trees in the front yard.

Shivering slightly, Remus glanced at his father. "Dad?" he asked softly. "Am I going to stay in my room on Friday? The house doesn't have an extra bedroom, does it?"

Dad sat up straight, eyes widening. "I've completely forgotten to show you," he whispered, climbing to his feet and setting Remus's book down on the coffee table next to Mum's old gramophone. "Follow me."

Frowning, Remus closed his book and rose to his feet, as well. Careful not to wake his mother, Remus tiptoed stealthily out of the sitting room and hurried after his father into the kitchen, towards the backdoor. To Remus's astonishment, Dad opened the kitchen door and stepped out onto the back porch. Then, he drew his wand from within his robes and waved it at a flurry of snow on the ground—and the snowdrift melted away to reveal two wooden doors.

Remus wrapped his arms around himself, as he followed his father down a short flight of rickety stairs and into a dark room. Dad lit his wand with a flick of his wrist and the cellar was suddenly bathed in a whitish, ghostly glow. It was small and musty, and a few spiderwebs and dried-up leaves littered the corners of the room. But it was also quite clear that someone had spent hours upon hours sweeping and scrubbing every inch of the expanse they could reach. A shelf fastened high up on the wall even contained blankets, pillows, and various healing supplies.

Remus swallowed heavily, taking in the underground room. It was very, very dark. The shack in Hogsmeade was no less eerie, with its boarded-up windows and its creaky floorboards, but it also had a distinctive openness to it. This tiny cellar reminded Remus of one thing and one thing only—a cage.

He looked around at his father, and with a jolt, Remus saw that he was beaming at his surroundings. And suddenly, Remus felt a fierce rush of shame. How many days had his father spent preparing this room? How many houses had his parents looked at before they'd found this one? And all for Remus's sake…

"So?" Dad asked, turning to Remus hopefully. "What do you think?"

Ignoring the fear and misery that had risen to the back of his throat like bile, Remus gave his father his best attempt at a smile.

"It's great, Dad."

* * *

Author's Note:

This is the first of two chapters (Secret I and Secret II) that describe the difficulties Remus faces with his keeping his condition a secret in his first year of Hogwarts. I'll be back with Secret II next Wednesday! Enjoy, my loves!

Ari


	9. Secret II

1 January 1972

 _Dear James,_

 _I'm so sorry that I couldn't make it to your parents' party yesterday. My mum's health took a turn for the worse, so my dad and I ended up spending the evening at the local hospital. It wasn't the cheeriest end to the holidays, but at least my mum's all right for now._

 _I hope you, Sirius, and Peter had a good time. I'll see you all on the train in two days._

 _Happy New Year,  
Remus_

Remus scanned the letter several times, his chest tightening painfully with each read. Then, before he could allow himself to feel any guiltier, he slipped the parchment into a spare envelope and tied it to the ankle of Sirius's gray screech owl, Felix, which had arrived earlier that morning with a letter from James and Sirius, demanding to know why Remus hadn't been at James's house the previous night.

It was the first day of the New Year, and it was already filled with lies.

* * *

4 February 1972

One chilly Friday morning, a month after the start of the new term, Remus stood beside Sirius in the Owlery tower, waiting for him to finish sending a letter to his younger brother. Remus had already written and sent off a quick response to his parents' latest letter, letting them know that his classes were going well and assuring them that he had survived the full moon on Monday with nothing worse than a few more scars.

Once or twice while composing his letter, Remus had glanced up to find Sirius staring intently at him rather than writing his own letter—but then, each time, Sirius had immediately returned to his parchment as though nothing had happened. It had been rather unsettling.

At last, with a final flourish of his quill, Sirius finished his letter. Then, with a lilting whistle, he hailed his owl down from its perch.

"How's your brother doing?" Remus asked Sirius, leaning back against the Owlery wall and watching Sirius fasten his letter to Felix's talon with a spare piece of twine.

Sirius shrugged, picking up his owl and walking over to a nearby window; Remus followed him. "All right, I suppose. He doesn't give my parents much trouble."

"No, that's your job, isn't it?" Remus asked dryly, and Sirius shot him a sly grin.

But then, as Sirius threw Felix into the air, Remus saw his friend's grin fade. Crossing his arms, Sirius gazed out towards the distant horizon with an inscrutable expression.

"Poor kid," he muttered, after several moments. "That house is foul enough when it's the both of us. I can't imagine what it's like alone."

Remus stared at his friend, slightly openmouthed, unsure of how to respond. He didn't think he was in any position to be giving sibling advice.

Sirius was silent for a few more moments. Then— "I should've gone home for Christmas," he said quietly.

"You'll see him over the summer," Remus said at once. "It's just a few months away. And he'll be at Hogwarts next year, won't he?"

Sirius smiled a little. "I hope he's in Gryffindor with us."

"Of course he will be," Remus grinned.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, staring out the window together.

Then, suddenly, Sirius turned to face Remus. "How's your mum?" he asked unexpectedly. "You went to see her on Monday night, didn't you?"

"Yeah…yeah, I did," Remus murmured, his cheeks burning slightly. "She's all right…same as always."

Sirius hummed understandingly, and another silence stretched out between them. Remus released an inaudible sigh of relief, grateful that Sirius had abandoned the topic of his mother's health. But then—

"Where d'you go when you visit her?"

Remus stared at Sirius, nonplussed. "I—I go home, of course."

Sirius's eyebrows furrowed. "But then, why didn't you already know your address at the beginning of the holidays?"

It was as though the air had been sucked out of Remus's lungs—he couldn't breathe. "What?" he asked in a slightly strangled voice, praying with every fiber of his being that he'd misheard.

Sirius's eyes narrowed, ever-so-slightly. "When we said goodbye at the platform in December, you said you didn't know your address yet because your parents had moved a few weeks after school started," he said slowly. "But you went home twice that term to see your mum. How could you not know your address?"

Remus's mouth was so dry that it felt rather like sandpaper. His mind was working furiously—what _possible_ reason could he have for not knowing his own address?

"I—er—I-I—" Remus stammered. "I just—never memorized it," he invented. "It's a small house—in Cornwall, near the ocean. I—I wasn't even sure if it had an address."

Sirius's face relaxed—but Remus's heart did not. And as the two of them began to make their way down the Owlery staircase, it hammered heavily against Remus's ribs, and he couldn't help but feel, with a sidelong glance at Sirius's profile, that he hadn't dispelled his friend's suspicions quite as thoroughly as he'd intended to.

* * *

19 May 1972

It was a scorching summer day. The sun blazed, hot and dazzling, in the late-afternoon sky, beckoning almost all of the students outdoors. Remus, James, Sirius, and Peter were sitting in the shade of a beech tree by the Black Lake, surrounded by piles of spellbooks, parchment, inkpots, and quills.

Suddenly, Sirius gave a loud groan, flinging aside his quill and flopping backwards onto the grass. "I can't study anymore," he complained.

Remus rolled his eyes. "We've been studying for five minutes."

"Yeah, and that's five minutes too many," James grumbled, sprawling out on the grass next to his friend and shielding his eyes from the sun with his Transfiguration spellbook. "Exams are _ages_ away."

"Only a month away," Remus reminded him, frowning in concentration as he circled an important paragraph in his own Transfiguration spellbook. "It's better to start early."

"But it's so _hot_ ," Peter whinged.

"Pete's right," Sirius declared suddenly, sitting bolt upright. In a single flourish, he pulled his robes up over his head and cast them aside, now wearing only his vest and boxers. "It's a million degrees out. I'm going swimming."

James's face split into a broad grin. In a flash, he leaped to his feet and started scrambling out of his robes, as well. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed.

Remus stared at his friends in horror as they began pulling off their vests.

"What are you doing?" he asked, unnerved.

"We're going in the lake, of course!" James laughed, untying his shoes. "Aren't you coming?"

"No," Remus said quickly, shrinking back slightly against the beech tree. "N-no, I—I don't think so."

"I'm just going splash around a bit in the shallow parts," Peter said brightly, hitching his robes up and peeling off his socks. "You can stand with me, Remus."

"No," Remus said again, his voice slightly strained now. "I—I think I'd really rather just sit here."

Sirius let out a bark-like laugh. "Oh, c'mon, Remus! It's not like the scars on your neck are all over your body."

Remus wanted so badly to laugh off the comment, which he knew that Sirius had meant in jest. He wanted to roll his eyes, shake his head, and say something sarcastic in return—but he couldn't; his voice was caught in his throat. Sirius's grin faded.

James stepped forward. "We don't care what you look like, Remus," he said earnestly. "You—" he hesitated, "you _can_ swim, can't you?"

"Of course I can swim," Remus said defensively, his cheeks flushing with color. "I just—I don't feel like swimming right now, all right?"

James shrugged. "Suit yourself, then!" he called over his shoulder, already making a beeline for the shore. "Last one in's a rotten flobberworm!"

Peter laughed loudly, pitching after James down the grassy bank—but Sirius paused for a brief moment, giving Remus a lingering, searching look that made him feel immeasurably uncomfortable, before he turned and hurried after his friends.

* * *

29 May 1972

Remus slouched up the dormitory staircase early in the evening, his head pounding. As he approached the door to the first year boys' room, he heard James and Sirius having a loud, playful argument behind the door. Squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing his temples in a fruitless attempt to contain his splitting headache, Remus fumbled for the doorknob and pushed the door open.

Almost at once, the room fell completely silent. James, who had Sirius in a painful-looking half-nelson on the floor, went still, staring up at Remus. Sirius stopped struggling in James's grip and turned to look at Remus, too. And Peter, who was sitting cross-legged on his bed, perked up slightly.

Remus froze at the threshold, glancing from one bizarrely attentive twelve-year-old to the next. "Have I got something on my face?" he asked warily.

"No, but you look dreadful," Sirius observed bluntly, yanking himself free of James's grasp and climbing to his feet.

"Thanks," Remus muttered sarcastically, trudging over to his bed and collapsing onto it. Wincing slightly, Remus tugged his bedcovers free and slipped underneath them, burying his face into the warmth of his pillow.

Then, suddenly, he felt a slight dip in his mattress. Looking up briefly, he saw James perched at the foot of his bed, while Sirius and Peter leaned against the footboard.

"Rough weekend at home, mate?" James asked him. "How's your mum?"

"Not great," Remus replied, his voice muffled against his pillow. "The doctors still aren't making any progress."

"You're looking a little ill yourself, Remus," Peter piped up, sounding worried. "Perhaps you ought to go see Madam Pomfrey."

"Yeah," Remus mumbled, closing his eyes against the hammering of his head. "Yeah, I will…maybe later."

"D'you really think it'll do any good though?" asked Sirius's uncertain voice. "I mean, if she couldn't fix you up this morning…"

Remus's eyes flew open. Ignoring the fact that his brain was threatening to pound its way out of his skull, he sat bolt upright and stared at his friends. "What are you talking about?" he demanded in an unnaturally high voice. "I was at home this morning."

Sirius shared a half-glance with James. "Well…Cat Deverill went to the Hospital Wing for some Pepperup after breakfast and she told us she saw you sleeping there."

Remus's heart leaped into his throat. "She's wrong," he said shrilly. "She can't have seen me. You know how Cat Deverill is—she's a gossip. I was at home, with my mum—"

"Relax, mate, we aren't questioning you," James interrupted in a reassuring voice. "We believe you. _You're_ our mate, not Cat. We trust everything you tell us—because you're our mate."

"And that's what mates do," Sirius added. "Trust and friendship—they're a package deal."

"Because friends have your back," Peter chimed in. "No matter what."

Remus blinked blearily between each of their faces. His head was aching so terribly that he couldn't find in himself the energy to read into this conversation any more than he had to. "Right," he said faintly. "Right…well, thanks. I mean, I'd know where I was this morning better than Cat Deverill anyway."

"Of course," Sirius replied, and through the haziness of his vision, Remus thought he saw a flicker of annoyance cross his friend's face—but then, the very next instant, it was gone. "Well, we'll let you get some sleep now. We're going to head down to dinner."

"Feel better, mate," James's voice floated back through the doorway, as the three boys began shuffling down the spiral staircase.

Remus slipped into an uneasy slumber, his mind racing.

* * *

28 June 1972

At the end of the final Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson of the year, Remus told his friends that he would catch up with them at the Great Hall for lunch. Then, after waiting for the rest of the class to shuffle out of the classroom, he swung his schoolbag onto his shoulder and walked up to Professor Belby's desk at the front of the room.

"Erm—Professor Belby?"

Professor Belby looked up from the letter he was reading, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Ah—hello, Mr. Lupin," he said kindly. "What can I do for you today?"

"Nothing, sir," Remus said quickly. "I was just wondering how I fared on my Defense Against the Dark Arts exam. I—I was ill on Monday, when you announced the final marks."

"Yes, yes…Minerva did mention you were in the Hospital Wing again," Professor Belby said mildly, pulling forward a sheaf of parchment on his desk and rifling through it. "Not to worry, Mr. Lupin. You performed admirably—top marks."

Remus beamed, pride bubbling in his chest. "Thank you so much, sir." He hesitated for a moment. Then— "I'll miss having you as Defense professor next term, sir," he added. "Your class was my favorite this year."

Professor Belby smiled warmly at him. "And I will miss teaching you, Mr. Lupin. But alas, the world of potion-brewing extends far beyond the walls of this castle, and I must return to pursuing my passion, though it pains me deeply to leave my wonderful students behind."

Remus grinned. "Yes, sir." Hitching his schoolbag onto his shoulder, he turned to head for the classroom door.

But then, suddenly— "Mr. Lupin?"

Remus turned around. Professor Belby had steepled his fingers under his nose and was gazing at him rather intently. Remus stared back at him.

"Yes, sir?"

"I was wondering," Professor Belby began slowly, "if, perhaps, there might be…something else…you'd like to share with me."

Remus blinked several times, utterly nonplussed. "What do you mean, sir?"

Professor Belby hesitated. "I don't mean to be intrusive, Mr. Lupin, but…I can't help but notice that you're looking a little paler and thinner than usual this morning, and—please forgive me for saying so—a little…scarred, as well."

Remus's heart screeched to a dizzying halt. "I'm—I'm ill, sir," he stammered. "I—Professor McGonagall must have mentioned—"

"She did mention it, Mr. Lupin," Professor Belby interrupted in a soft voice. "I just…well, I couldn't help but take a closer look at some of your symptoms, and—"

But he was cut off by a sudden scuffle from the door, and Remus whirled around just in time to see Professor Slughorn letting himself into the classroom, carrying a tin of crystallized pineapple. A wave of nausea crashed over Remus—born, no doubt, of a combination of the sickeningly sweet scent of the fruity candy and the knowledge that Professor Belby's eyes were still boring into his back.

"Damocles, my dear boy, thank you for the pineapple," Professor Slughorn said happily, as he closed the door behind him and strode down the aisle between the desks. "It is my absolute favorite, as you very well know—" he stopped short, spotting Remus. "Oh, hello, Mr. Lupin," he said, in a slightly nervous voice, though he smiled. "How are you?"

"Fine, Professor, thank you," Remus said shakily, hitching the strap of his schoolbag up again and determinedly avoiding Professor Belby's eyes. "I—I'm just leaving actually."

"Oh, no, no—please don't leave on my account," Professor Slughorn said immediately. "Would you like a sweet?" He held the tin of pineapple candy out to Remus. "Or perhaps you might like to join Professor Belby and myself in the dungeons for lunch?"

"No," Remus said quickly, overcome by another surge of nausea. "No, Professor, I'd best be going. My friends are probably wondering where I am."

"Oh—well, all right, then," said Professor Slughorn, sounding a little bewildered, as Remus hurried past him. "Take care, Mr. Lupin—"

But Remus had already ducked out of the doorway and was now rushing down the third floor corridor, feeling—for the very first time—utterly and overwhelmingly relieved that he would never have to see or speak to Professor Belby again.

* * *

19 August 1972

Remus, James, Sirius, and Peter were seated at a table outside Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. James's parents had taken them all to Diagon Alley for the afternoon, so that they could finish their school shopping together. Now, they were simmering down with tall cones of chocolate ice cream, while Mr. and Mrs. Potter visited a nearby jewelry store.

At the moment, they were discussing their families.

"I never knew my grandparents," James shrugged, licking a few drops of chocolate off of his fingers. "My mum was sixty when she had me, and my dad was sixty-two, so my grandparents were long gone. My dad was an only child like me, so I haven't got any aunts and uncles from him, but my mum's got an older brother—my uncle Caradoc. He's my godfather, too. He and my dad were best friends at Hogwarts, in Gryffindor together. That's how my dad met my mum. And Uncle Caradoc is excellent! He bought me my first broom when I was four— _and_ he took my to my first Quidditch match!"

"Well, I'd rather have no grandparents than the grandparents I've got," Sirius muttered darkly, scowling down at his ice cream cone.

"Are they that bad?" Remus asked softly.

Sirius snorted. "On my fifth birthday, Grandfather Pollux and Grandmother Irma sat me down and had me memorize the genealogies of every single pure-blood family in the United Kingdom—including the smaller families and the blood traitor families. Then, on Christmas morning, they made me recite them in front of my entire family—and if I made a single mistake, I had to start from the beginning."

Remus, James, and Peter all gawked at him.

"They started educating us early, so we'd learn to tell the difference between the _good_ pure-bloods and the _bad_ pure-bloods," Sirius continued bitterly, fiddling with a sprinkle on his ice cream cone. He glanced at James. "I learned a lot about your family, James—and yours, too, Remus."

Remus startled. "Mine?"

"Oh, yeah," Sirius said listlessly. "The Lupins were pure-blood up until the twenties, if I remember correctly."

Remus blinked, several times. He knew practically nothing about his extended family. His father's parents, Lowell and Edith Lupin, had both died when their son was in his final year of Hogwarts; Remus had seen their _Daily Prophet_ obituaries in his father's study numerous times. And as for his mother's family…well, his mother had cut ties with her Muggle parents and sisters after Remus had been bitten. Remus didn't even know their names. The one time he'd summoned the courage to ask his mother about them, she'd burst into tears. After that, he hadn't dared to ask again.

Remus dimly suspected that Sirius knew more about his family then he did. The thought was rather depressing.

Swallowing heavily, Remus turned abruptly to Peter. "What's your family like, Peter?" he asked, with a forced smile.

* * *

22 September 1972

"What d'you mean you can't come tomorrow?" James froze in the act of polishing the mahogany handle of his brand new Nimbus 1700, gaping at Remus from his bed. "You've _got_ to come and watch me! I've been telling you about Quidditch tryouts since the start of term!"

"I'm so sorry, James," Remus said in a strained voice. "I've just found out—I've got to go home. I—my mum—"

Setting his broomstick aside, James climbed suddenly to his feet and stalked towards Remus's bed, his arms crossed. Sirius and Peter, who were playing chess on the rug in the center of the dormitory, both turned and stared at him.

"Why can't you visit your mum next weekend?" James asked acidly, and Remus was startled—and hurt—to hear a distinct note of accusation in his voice. "Why has it got to be this weekend?"

Remus swallowed, shaking his head. "James, I'm really sorry. I know how much these tryouts mean to you—but I've just—it's just got to be this weekend—"

"I thought this year would be different," James burst out, his jaw clenching. "I thought you'd tell—"

"James," Sirius's steely voice cut sharply through James's rant like a knife. "His mum's ill."

Remus looked gratefully at Sirius—but his stomach dropped at the sight of his friend's face. Sirius was not looking at James, but rather, directly at Remus. His expression was disconcertingly wooden.

There was a tense, lingering pause.

Then, James reached up and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, sounding ashamed. "That was out of line. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Remus said quietly, already climbing under his bedcovers. "Goodnight." Curling into his quilts, Remus closed his eyes and tried his hardest to ignore the silent conversation that his friends were almost certainly having beyond the curtains of his four-poster bed.

* * *

23 September 1972

Remus jogged up the dormitory staircase at half past four in the evening to deposit his schoolbag on his bed and grab a warmer cloak. He'd just finished studying Potions with Lily, and he was running late—Madam Pomfrey had asked Remus to come to the Hospital Wing three hours earlier than usual that evening. Apparently, this month's moonrise was an untimely one.

Remus paused outside the door of his dormitory, listening intently for any sounds from inside the room. He had been carefully avoiding his friends all day, after James's angry outburst the previous night. Finally, after a few moments of dull silence, Remus decided that it was safe to go inside. His friends had likely gone down to the Quidditch pitch to watch the Gryffindor Quidditch team's tryouts. Releasing a relieved sigh, Remus pushed open the dormitory door and slipped inside, hurrying towards his bed.

He froze.

On his bed lay an enormous platter of chocolate-caramel fudge.

Dazedly, Remus stumbled towards the bed and dropped his schoolbag to the floor, staring at the fudge in astonishment. Then, he saw an elegant stationary card that he identified as one of Sirius's—it had the Black family crest on it—lying at the edge of the plate. He picked it up gingerly, and immediately recognized James's untidy scrawl.

 _Remus,_

 _I'm really, really sorry about what I said last night. I nicked some fudge from the kitchens for you to take home. I hope there are no hard feelings._

 _Tell your mum best wishes from me, and_ _I'll see you on Monday._

 _Your (almost certainly!) new Gryffindor Chaser,  
James_

Remus stared at the note, his heart aching. Eventually his hand began shaking so violently that the card slipped out from between his fingers and fluttered back onto the bed. Then, suddenly, Remus sank to the dormitory floor, burying his face in his arms.

* * *

Author's Note:

In light of recent political developments in my country, I would like to say just one thing: "Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if only one remembers to turn on the light." —Albus Dumbledore

So, moving forward, let us all remember to keep the light on, and fight on. Thank you.

Ari


	10. Confrontation

10 November 1972

"Did you see that pass I made to Moran? I had to dodge both Bludgers! And did you see my incredible shot at the end? Hooper nearly killed himself trying to save it—!"

"Yeah, yeah, we get it—you're the best Chaser ever to grace the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch," Sirius told James in an exasperated voice, though he was grinning. "Gryffindor's going to flatten Ravenclaw tomorrow."

"Of course we are!" James exclaimed, puffing his chest out proudly. "We're going to wipe the pitch with their swotty faces!"

Remus laughed, shaking his head, as he followed his friends into their dormitory. He, Sirius, and Peter had spent the evening watching James and the rest of the Gryffindor team in their last practice before the first official match of the season. Remus didn't know very much about Quidditch, but he reckoned he didn't have to be an expert to know that the Gryffindor team was excellent—and that James was truly as incredible a flier as he'd always boasted. He was the youngest member of the team, but he outshone his fellow Chasers with a confidence and an ease that Remus could only marvel at.

"Who's up for a quick game of Snap before dinner?" Sirius asked, reaching into his bedside drawer and withdrawing his pack of Exploding Snap cards.

"I am," Peter said enthusiastically.

"Me, too," James grinned, tossing his cloak aside and kicking his mud-splattered trainers under his bed.

"You might want to try a shower first, James," Remus suggested dryly, shrugging off his own cloak. "You smell like you could be Professor Bletchley's son."

Sirius let out a bark-like laugh. Professor Bletchley was their new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He was a very unpleasant man—and he emitted an equally unpleasant odor. James and Sirius were convinced that he was part-troll.

James pulled a rude hand gesture in Remus's direction, grinning good-naturedly nonetheless. Then, snatching his towel and bathrobe up from the footboard of his four-poster bed, he stalked off towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

"Are you playing, Remus?" Sirius asked from the rug in the center of the dormitory, where he was dealing the cards between himself and Peter.

"Yeah, I'll be right there," Remus called over his shoulder, neatly folding his cloak and tucking it into his dresser. Then, suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker of movement on the floor between his and James's beds, and he looked around, frowning.

James's worn-out copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ was lying open, face-down, on the ground; the wings of the Golden Snitch emblazoned on the cover were fluttering against the green backdrop. Remus smiled to himself. He had bought James the book as a birthday present in March, but it was only since joining the Gryffindor Quidditch team in September that James had begun poring over the Quidditch book at every available opportunity, fervently underlining sentences and scribbling notes into the margins. In all honesty, it was the most Remus had ever seen his friend read.

Shaking his head in amusement, Remus stooped to pick up the book, glancing down at the page it had been opened to.

His heart stopped.

An enormous, grizzly gray wolf with glittering amber eyes was lunging towards him from the page, its face twisted into a snarl.

Remus gaped down at the picture, his ears ringing painfully.

Hands shaking slightly, Remus began leafing through the book, desperately seeking out passages about Quidditch fouls and the British and Irish league—but phrases like _'cursed wounds'_ and _'the lunar phase'_ were glaring up at him from each chapter. Every single page was covered in notes and markings—and there was no doubt in Remus's mind who they belonged to. James's untidy scrawl was unmistakable.

Heart hammering against his ribcage now, Remus flipped the book to the title page—and terror jumped to the back of his throat like bile. It was called _The Lupine Lifestyle: Understanding Lycanthropy._

 _James knew._

"Remus, what are you doing? Hurry up!" Sirius's impatient voice came from the direction of the rug.

Remus whirled around, opening his mouth—but he couldn't seem to form words. He opened and closed his mouth soundlessly several more times, the disguised book on lycanthropy quaking in his hands.

Sirius's sharp gray eyes landed on the book—and his face turned white. Next to him, Peter's expression melted into one of horror.

 _They knew, too._

"Remus…" Sirius spoke first—and the sound of his name was like a trigger. Still clutching the werewolf book so tightly that his fingers hurt, Remus tripped past his friends, towards the dormitory door—but in a flash, Sirius had leaped up from the rug and dashed across the room to stand between Remus and the doorframe.

"Remus—"

Before Sirius could say anything more, the bathroom door swung open and James stepped out in his red and gold bathrobe, freshly showered. Upon taking in the bizarre scene in front of him, he froze.

Then, he noticed the green book in Remus's hands and his jaw dropped.

And then, in a single, dizzying moment, everything came crashing down. The book slipped out of Remus's fingers and he stumbled backwards, covering his face with his hands and shaking his head furiously.

They knew. They _knew_. _They knew_.

He was going to have to leave Hogwarts.

But he couldn't leave Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore had put his job and his reputation on the line to allow Remus the opportunity to study magic—and the thought of disappointing the headmaster, after everything he'd done for Remus, caused a fresh wave of mingled shame and nausea to wash over Remus.

There was only one thing he could do—there was only one way he could possibly salvage this situation. Shaking from head-to-toe, Remus lowered his hands from his face and swallowed heavily. James and Peter had both joined Sirius by the dormitory door, and all three boys were staring at him.

There was a heavy, lingering pause.

Then— "I'll never come near you again," Remus whispered, trembling. "I'll—I won't sit with you at meals—or class—"

"Remus," James gasped, eyes widening. "What—?"

"I'll even stop sleeping in here if you want," Remus continued in a strangled voice. "I—I can start sleeping in the common room. Just please— _please_ don't tell anyone—"

"Remus," James said again, taking a step towards him—but Remus shook his head, stepping backwards.

"Please," he repeated in a hoarse whisper. "Please don't tell— _please_ —"

"Remus, we've known for six months," Sirius interrupted loudly. "If we were going to tell someone, don't you think we'd have done it already?"

Remus's mouth fell open. He blinked at Sirius in shock, several times. His mind was refusing to process what he'd just heard—six months…six _months_ —since _May_ …

"We've just been arguing about how to break it to you," James added softly, taking another step towards Remus—and this time, Remus found that he couldn't bring himself to back away. "We—we were trying to give you a chance to tell us yourself."

Remus stared at James, too dumbfounded to speak. Fortunately, it seemed that his friends were nowhere near running out of words.

"Around March, we started noticing something weird about the days you chose to visit home," Sirius said quietly. "It was always around the full moons—we learned the dates in Astronomy."

"And you'd always come back looking ill and tired," Peter chimed in. "It didn't make any sense—your mum was the one who was supposed to be ill, not you."

"So, we started giving you opportunities to tell us the truth," James said, smiling slightly. "We lied and said that Cat Deverill saw you in the Hospital Wing—and I gave you that plate of fudge in September to try and guilt you into coming clean."

"We even pretended to plan adventures for the full moons," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "But you always found a way to excuse yourself."

"Because I didn't want you to know!" Remus exclaimed, his voice strained. "You—you weren't supposed to— _no_ one is supposed to know! D'you have _any_ idea what people think of werewolves—?"

"Yeah, I do," Sirius said shortly. "My parents hate werewolves—"

"Your parents hate everyone," Peter interjected.

"—and they're _wrong_ ," Sirius finished harshly. "It's a stupid prejudice, just like everything else my parents believe in—!"

"No!" Remus interrupted in a strangled voice, shaking his head. "No—they're dangerous! _I'm_ dangerous—!"

"Remus, what if the roles were reversed?" James interrupted fiercely. "What if _we_ were werewolves? Would you stop being friends with _us_ because—because we got a little _furry_ every month?"

"I—no, but—"

"Then, can you imagine how we're feeling?" James continued earnestly. Bending down, he retrieved the werewolf book that Remus had dropped to the floor. "We've been doing research for _weeks_ , trying to learn what it's like—what you go through each month—because…because we didn't want you to go it alone anymore."

It took several moments for the impact of these words to settle over Remus—and when they did, the corners of his eyes stung. Pressing his lips together, he turned and stared at the floor.

Sirius cleared his throat. "When did it happen?" he asked softly. "I mean—how old were you?"

Remus glanced up, swallowing. "I was four," he whispered. "I don't know who the werewolf was, or—or how it happened." He paused. "I almost feel bad for him," he continued quietly. "He probably had no idea what he was doing—you don't have any control over your mind during the full moon."

There was another silence.

Then— "Is it scary?" Peter blurted out.

Remus looked at him, frowning. "What?"

Peter flushed pink, looking embarrassed. "Turning into a werewolf," he whispered. "Is it—is it scary?"

Remus averted his gaze again, clenching his jaw.

"Where d'you go?" James asked hesitantly. "What…what exactly happens on the full moons?"

Remus could tell from the way that Sirius and Peter both perked up slightly at the question that they had all been wondering this for a long while.

"I go down to the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey takes me to the Whomping Willow," Remus explained in a low voice. "There's a tunnel in the trunk that leads to a shack in Hogsmeade—that's where I transform. _I'm_ the reason the tree was planted."

There was a stunned pause.

"Are you telling me," James said slowly, "that you've known about a secret passageway to Hogsmeade since _last year_ and you _never told us?_ "

And then, in spite of himself—in spite of _everything_ —Remus gave a strangled laugh; James grinned at him.

"I wish we could come with you," Sirius said in a rueful tone. "On the full moons, I mean."

Remus stared at him. "Have you got a death wish?"

Sirius snorted. "No, I just…I hate the idea of you being all by yourself."

Remus's chest constricted with emotion. Swallowing heavily, he shook his head. "How…" he whispered, " _how_ can you not… _mind?_ "

His words were greeted by a loud chorus of groans.

"I'm not going to explain this again," James said firmly, rolling his eyes.

"Mate," Sirius breathed, his expression incredulous, "how many people can say that they've got a werewolf for a best friend? This is bloody brilliant!"

It was the casualness with which Sirius said the words— _best friend_ —that finally drove the point home. Suddenly, it hit Remus, all at once—they were still his friends— _he_ was still _their_ friend. There they were—standing in front of him, united in their support, rallying behind him, refusing to treat him any differently—tears sprung to Remus's eyes before he could stop them and he began blinking rapidly.

"Oh, _great_ ," Sirius complained, though he was grinning. "Now, he's going to start blubbering like my cousin Cissy does when her stupid boyfriend doesn't write her back."

Remus roughly swiped his hand under his nose and glared at Sirius, opening his mouth to retort—but before he could say a word, Sirius bounded forward and seized him in a painful headlock. And then, a second later, James and Peter were there, too—and together, they tumbled to the floor in a senseless mass of tangled limbs and hysterical laughter.


	11. Sirius

12 November 1972

"I can't find Sirius."

Remus looked up from the table that he and Lily were sharing in the common room. James was standing over them, looking agitated.

Remus frowned. "What d'you mean?"

"I can't find him," James repeated anxiously. "I haven't seen him since breakfast—he left to use the loo and he never came back."

Remus put down his quill. "Is he with Peter?"

"No, Peter's showering upstairs."

"Maybe he's in detention," Lily snapped, glaring at James. "I heard the two of you put Bertram Aubrey from Ravenclaw in the Hospital Wing with an engorged skull."

"He deserved that," James retorted. "He was being a sore loser about the match yesterday."

"Oh, and I suppose Severus _deserved_ to have a dungbomb slipped into his schoolbag on Thursday, did he?" Lily demanded, swelling with anger.

James narrowed his eyes at her. "I didn't see you rushing to _my_ defense last Monday when the greasy git used that toenail-growing hex on me before Potions!"

"That's because I hate you, James Potter," Lily spat, gathering her books and shoving them into her satchel. Climbing to her feet, she flung one last loathsome look at James, before turning to Remus. "I'll see you later, Remus."

Remus gave her a weary wave, as she stalked across the common room to join Mary Macdonald and Honora Griffiths by the fireplace. Then, he faced James, shaking his head.

"She's actually really nice," Remus said in a low voice. "You know, when she's not—"

"—biting my head off?" James said furiously, glowering across the common room.

"Well, yes," Remus sighed, closing his Potions book. "But let's get back to the more pressing issue here—where's Sirius?"

James's irritation disappeared at once. "I don't know," he lamented. Then, he lowered his voice. "He got a letter in the owl post this morning. What if it's something to do with his family?"

Remus bit his lip. "All right—you grab Peter and start searching the seventh floor, working your way down. I'll start at the ground floor and work my way up. If we meet in the middle and we still haven't found him, we'll take it to McGonagall."

James nodded swiftly, turning and scrambling in the direction of the nearby dormitory staircase. Sighing heavily, Remus rose to his feet and began packing his books and parchment into his schoolbag. Looking up, he glanced absently around the Gryffindor common room. It was packed with people—unsurprising, given that it was a Sunday afternoon, and that the weather outside was absolutely horrid; rain was hammering relentlessly against the common room's bay windows. Remus's eyes landed briefly on the knot of second year Gryffindor girls sitting on the hearthrug—and at that very moment, Lily looked up and caught his eye. She grinned at him.

Then, Lily reached out and nudged Mary Macdonald in the ribs. Mary looked around and spotted Remus—and suddenly, her face split into a luminous smile. She waved brightly at him, and Remus smiled bemusedly back at her. He didn't know Mary very well. Apart from having sat next to her in Transfiguration a handful of times, Remus had barely spoken to her. She was giggling furiously now, her face buried in Lily's shoulder.

Remus blinked, feeling nonplussed. Girls could be rather strange sometimes.

Shaking his head, he swung his schoolbag onto his shoulder and headed for the portrait hole.

He spent nearly half-an-hour scouring the ground floor of the castle, but to no avail. Sirius wasn't in the Entrance Hall, nor in the Great Hall, nor in any of the classrooms. Remus's investigations of the first and second floors were similarly uneventful, save a rather ill-timed run-in with Peeves outside the History of Magic classroom. The poltergeist proceeded to follow Remus around for several minutes, chanting, "Loony, loopy Lupin!"

Halfway through searching the third floor of the castle, Remus suddenly realized that he hadn't checked any of the locations below ground level—the dungeons or the kitchens. He had no idea why Sirius would ever choose to visit either of these two locations alone, but Remus was nothing if not thorough—he had to make sure. No sooner had he decided to turn around and head back for the staircase, however, that he saw him—Sirius, sitting against a wall at the far end of a deserted third floor corridor, his head in his hands.

Remus froze in his tracks, gazing, openmouthed, down the corridor at his friend's subdued form.

"He appears to be in shock, the poor fellow."

Remus startled. Sir Nicholas, the ghost of Gryffindor house, was gliding slowly up the hallway towards Remus, his expression grave.

"In shock about what?" Remus whispered, continuing to stare at Sirius's small, hunched outline in the distance.

"He didn't wish to discuss the matter with me," Sir Nicholas sighed, glancing back at Sirius over his shoulder, as well. He looked at Remus. "Perhaps you will fare better, being his friend." The ghost smiled, reaching out and patting Remus's shoulder—causing Remus to feel as though his arm had been plunged into ice-cold water. Then, he floated through a nearby wall, out of sight.

Remus swallowed, turning back to face Sirius. Briefly, he contemplated dashing upstairs to find James and Peter, so that he wouldn't have to approach Sirius alone. But then, he shook the idea away almost immediately. It was a cowardly thought. Besides, as Sir Nicholas had reminded him, Sirius was his friend—and this was what friends did, wasn't it?

Taking a deep breath, Remus set off down the corridor. Then, when he was about a foot away from Sirius, he came to a stop.

"Sirius?"

Sirius jumped violently, sitting bolt upright and looking at Remus in shock—and with a slight blow to his chest, Remus noticed that his eyes were bloodshot.

"Remus?" Sirius asked, in a voice that was too full of bravado to be convincingly nonchalant. "What're you doing here?"

Remus set his schoolbag on the flagstone floor and knelt down in front of Sirius. "You disappeared during breakfast," Remus said quietly, watching Sirius carefully. "It's nearly lunchtime now." He waited for the space of a few heartbeats before adding, "Is…is everything all right?"

Sirius didn't respond, but Remus saw his jaw clench slightly.

Swallowing heavily and wondering whether he was crossing a line, Remus continued, "Sirius…James said you got a letter in the post. Did…did something happen in your family?"

A dark look crossed Sirius's face and Remus knew at once that he had guessed correctly. He expected Sirius to shrug his shoulders, smile forcibly, and assure him that everything would be fine—but to his surprise, Sirius closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. Then, he reached into his cloak pocket and withdrew a rumpled scroll of parchment, holding it out towards Remus.

Remus stared at his friend, but Sirius didn't meet his gaze. Very slowly, Remus reached out and accepted the scroll. Then, gingerly, he unfolded it and smoothed out the creases.

 _Dear Sirius,_

 _I wanted you to hear this directly from me before you went home for Christmas and heard it from either of our mothers._

 _I've run away._

 _I'm so sorry, Sirius. Really, I am. But I'm in love, and I have been since sixth year. The thing is, Ted's a Muggle-born, and I always knew that Mother and Father would never approve of him. And when I came home after graduation and found out that they had gotten me betrothed to Rabastan Lestrange, I knew I had to make an escape._

 _I thought I'd have more time. I was planning on waiting until the holidays. I thought I'd be able to tell you all of this—say goodbye—in person, but last week, I found out that I'm pregnant. I've been sneaking around with Ted behind Mother's and Father's backs since summer, and I suppose we weren't being as careful as we thought we were._

 _Sirius, for the sake of both your safety and mine, please don't respond to this letter_ _—o_ _r write me at all_ _—_ _until things die down at home. Bella will hunt us both down if she finds out that we've had_ _correspondence_ _, and I just can't afford that: I'm responsible for a whole other human life now._

 _Ted and I saw a Healer yesterday. The baby is due in mid-June. I really, truly hope that you'll be able to meet him or her someday._

 _Love,  
Andromeda_

 _P.S. Ted and I are getting married in two weeks. He's asked me to tell you that if only you could attend, he'd have made you one of his groomsmen for sure._

 _P.P.S. Please destroy this letter after you finish reading it._

Remus stared down at the letter for several long moments, his mouth agape. Then, he looked up at Sirius, blinking rapidly. "She's—pregnant?"

Sirius took the letter from Remus, his expression unreadable. "She ran away," he said dumbly. "She's gone."

Remus frowned. "Sirius…that's not—"

"She's the only family I've got, Remus," Sirius interrupted in a numb voice. "Meda…she was the only decent one—even after I was put in Gryffindor. Now, even Reg's in Slytherin, with stupid Cissy breathing down his neck every minute of the day." Sirius paused, swallowing. "I don't…I don't even know when I'll see her again."

Remus didn't know what to say—not because he didn't understand how Sirius felt about his cousin, because he did. It was the same way Remus felt about his parents, after all. But Remus couldn't even begin to fathom a situation in which he would be forced to bid his parents goodbye in such a brutal manner.

But then, he remembered that horrible, horrible moment, two days earlier, when he had thought that he had lost James, Sirius, and Peter—that prejudice and hatred would cost him his friends—and suddenly, a fierce rush of sympathy for Sirius welled up in Remus, overwhelming him. Reaching out, he gripped Sirius's shoulder tightly.

Sirius looked up in surprise, but then quickly looked away. For several minutes, they sat in silence, and Remus pretended not to notice as Sirius impatiently wiped a few tears away from the corners of his eyes.

Then, at last, Sirius cleared his throat. "I'm being stupid," he muttered. "It's not like she can—I can't honestly expect her to stick around. She—she's _pregnant_ , for Merlin's sake."

Remus smiled at him. "D'you realize what this means?"

Sirius frowned. "What?"

Remus pointed at the scroll in Sirius's hands. "Come June, you'll have _two_ decent cousins."

Sirius stared down at the letter for a long moment, his mouth slightly open. Then, very slowly, a broad grin spread across his face, lighting up his features. Eyes gleaming, he looked at Remus. "I have no clue who this Ted bloke is, but he's my bloody hero."

Remus burst out laughing.

* * *

Author's Note:

Early update this week for Thanksgiving! Happy Thanksgiving in advance to all my fellow Americans! :)

Ari


	12. Transfiguration

3 September 1973

On the first day of third year lessons, Remus arrived at the Great Hall fifteen minutes early. Pausing at the threshold, Remus glanced around to find that very few other students were out and about. The Hufflepuff table was completely empty, and only a smattering of puffy-eyed seventh years was huddled at the far end of the Ravenclaw table. Lily Evans was sitting at the Slytherin table with Severus Snape, engrossed in what looked like a serious conversation. Briefly, Remus considered joining them—but then, he immediately pushed the idea away. Given the amount of animosity that existed between James, Sirius, and Snape, Remus was fairly certain that the surly Slytherin boy would not take kindly to his appearance, no matter what Lily said to appease him.

Sighing softly, Remus turned and headed instead for the Gryffindor table. Its only occupant was a black-haired boy surrounded by an impressive pile of books; his nose was buried deep inside one of them. It wasn't until Remus was right next to him that he realized that the boy was not, in fact, a stranger.

"James?" Remus asked in disbelief.

James jumped, dropping his book on the floor and blinking around in bewilderment. Then, his eyes fell on Remus. "Oh—hey, Remus."

Remus stared at his friend. "What're you doing down here so early? I didn't even realize you'd left the dorm."

James reached under the table and picked up the book he'd dropped. Remus glanced at it—it was _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander.

"I woke up early to go to the library," James shrugged, stuffing the book into his schoolbag. "I wanted to check out a few books before class."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "You went to the library?"

James looked up, frowning. "Yeah. Why?"

"No reason," Remus said lightly, taking a seat beside James and sliding his schoolbag under the bench. "I just didn't think you knew where it was."

James rolled his eyes. "I see the summer hasn't dulled your wit in the slightest."

Remus grinned, leaning over to examine the pile of books that was still sitting on the breakfast table in front of James: _Fascinating Fauna of the United Kingdom_ … _A Comprehensive Guide to Wizarding Wildlife_ …every single one of the books was related to animals.

"What on Earth have you got all of these books for?" Remus asked James in amazement. "You aren't even taking Care of Magical Creatures."

Before James could answer, the doors to the Great Hall swung open, and a sizeable crowd of students swarmed inside, chattering happily and filtering into the four house tables. Sirius and Peter were among them. Looking around and spotting Remus and James, they hurried up the aisle between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables.

"I'm starving," Sirius groaned, swinging himself onto the bench opposite Remus—and as if on cue, the empty platters on the Gryffindor table suddenly filled with food. Sirius's face brightened. "Wicked!"

Remus shook his head in amusement, pulling forward his own plate and helping himself to several slices of toast, as well as a spoonful of scrambled eggs. Then, glancing to his right, he saw that James had just finished squeezing the last of his new library books into his schoolbag. Frowning slightly, Remus opened his mouth to ask about them again, but at that very moment—

"Good morning, you four."

Remus looked over his shoulder. Professor McGonagall was standing over them, her green eyes stern behind her square spectacles. In her hands, she was carrying a stack of timetables.

"Good morning, Professor," Sirius called, with a dazzling smile. "How was your summer?"

Professor McGonagall looked at him, arching an eyebrow. "It was just fine, Mr. Black, thank you for asking," she said tartly. Her gaze swept over the other three boys. "I sincerely hope that I will not be required to write as many letters to your parents this year, gentlemen."

"Of course not, Professor," James said in a very earnest tone—and Remus could have sworn he saw a corner of Professor McGonagall's lips twitch.

"Here are your class schedules," she said briskly, pulling four timetables out of her stack and passing them to Remus. Then, with a curt nod, she swept down the length of the Gryffindor table to entrust the rest of the house's timetables to seventh year Alice Fawley, the new Head Girl.

"We've got Transfiguration first thing," Peter observed, accepting his schedule from Remus. "Then, Potions with the Slytherins—and Defense Against the Dark Arts, third. I wonder what Professor Carmichael will be like."

"Can't be worse than Bletchley, can she?" Sirius asked darkly. "I swear, I've never been so happy to hear that someone got Dragon Pox. That miserable, old sod deserved it—"

"Sirius," Remus admonished, frowning.

"What? It's true," Sirius insisted, scrutinizing his own timetable. "What've you all got after lunch?"

"Divination," Peter said brightly. "I can't wait—Professor Quisenberry's supposed to be excellent."

"I've got Muggle Studies," James noted.

"Me, too," Sirius said, in a tone of great excitement.

Remus glanced at Sirius, grinning. "What did your parents say when you told them you were taking it?"

Sirius smirked. "I've decided to wait until December to break the news," he said airily. "In fact, I'm going to announce it to the whole family at Christmas dinner." He paused, eyes gleaming. "I think my mother might faint."

James snorted with laughter.

A little over an hour later, the four boys trooped out of the Great Hall and towards the Transfiguration classroom on the far end of the ground floor corridor. When they arrived at the classroom, the five Gryffindor girls were already there. Lily Evans, Mary Macdonald, and Honora Griffiths were seated in the front row, while Cat Deverill and Maggie Wickersham occupied the desk behind theirs, giggling over a copy of _Witch Weekly_.

Remus followed James, Sirius, and Peter to two adjacent desks on the other side of the classroom. Immediately, James pulled out the enchanted notepad (the messages disappeared after a few seconds) that he and Sirius had been using to pass notes in class since first year. Rolling his eyes amusedly, Remus reached into his own schoolbag and withdrew his Transfiguration spellbook, a quill, an inkpot, and a sheaf of parchment.

Just then, the classroom door swung open, and Professor McGonagall swept inside. With a flick of her wand, she sent a piece of chalk zooming to the chalkboard, where it began writing. Remus glanced sideways at James and Sirius to find the two of them with their heads still bent over their notepad. Smiling to himself and shaking his head, Remus turned to face the front of the classroom again. Professor McGonagall had taken her customary place behind her desk, and her chalk piece had finished writing a single word on the board: _'ANIMAGI.'_

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. "Miss Wickersham, put that silly magazine away," she snapped. "And Mr. Potter, if I see that notebook in my classroom one more time, it's mine."

Remus watched in amusement as James looked up and gave Professor McGonagall his most practiced, ingratiating smile. "Sorry, Professor—" James broke off, his eyes widening as they landed on the chalkboard. Then, with a soft _thump_ , his notepad slipped out of his fingers and fell under his desk.

Remus raised his eyebrows at him.

Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes, turning back to face the classroom at large. "Today, we will be learning about Animagi," she announced sharply. "Who here can tell me what an Animagus is?"

Lily's hand was the first one in the air, as usual. Remus raised his hand, too—and so, to Remus's surprise, did James. While James was easily the best in their year at Transfiguration, he seldom chose to play the part of the attentive student.

Apparently, Professor McGonagall was surprised by this unexpected show of attentiveness, too, for she narrowed her eyes suspiciously at James. "Mr. Potter?"

"An Animagus is a witch or wizard who can turn into an animal at will," James explained breathlessly.

"That is correct. Five points to Gryffindor," said Professor McGonagall crisply.

Then, suddenly, before their very eyes, Professor McGonagall transformed into a tabby cat with square-shaped markings around its eyes. Remus gasped, dropping his quill and leaning forward. With a mew, the cat sprung lightly onto the teacher's desk and proceeded to prowl its length two times. Then, it turned to face the students, leaping forward into the air—and with a faint _pop_ , Professor McGonagall appeared before them once again.

There was a shivering silence, the shock of the moment suspended. Then, the room burst into uproarious applause—led by a particularly enthusiastic James and Sirius, both of whom had gotten to their feet.

"Settle down…settle down, everyone," Professor McGonagall ordered, though she was actually smiling. "As you have just witnessed, I am one of seven Animagi in the United Kingdom and Ireland that have been registered to the Ministry of Magic's database this century. The Ministry keeps very tight tabs on the witches and wizards who become Animagi because the transformation is an exceptionally challenging one, and it has been known to go horribly wrong, in some cases resulting in death…"

Remus didn't hear the next several minutes of Professor McGonagall's lecture. He was too busy staring at James and Sirius, both of whom were leaning over their tabletop and gazing at Professor McGonagall with rapt admiration. Remus blinked, several times. It was odd enough that James had actually put his infamous notepad away…now, he was _paying attention?_ Remus shook his head slowly, turning to his right to draw Peter's attention to this bizarre behavior—but then, he froze. Peter, too, was watching Professor McGonagall intently, his eyes glassy and his mouth agape.

"…Human-to-animal Transfiguration is not the same as becoming an Animagus," Professor McGonagall was saying. "A talented wizard can easily transfigure his nose into a beak, or his feet into hooves, but that does not make him an Animagus. Transfiguration is a form of spell-casting, whereas becoming an Animagus is for life. Becoming an Animagus is truly identity-altering—it is a part of you. The animal you become represents the very essence of your character…"

The word 'animal' triggered something in Remus's memory—the pile of books that James had borrowed from the library that morning. James could play it off all he liked, but the fact that he had gotten out of bed a half-hour early to peruse a stack of library books was _not_ normal—and the fact that they were all about _animals_ was even stranger. Vaguely, Remus tried to recall the last time he'd seen James read so avidly about something other than Quidditch, but nothing came to mind. Apart from poring over the _Seeker Weekly_ that he received every Saturday and dissecting the League standings table that was published in the Sports section of the _Daily Prophet_ each month, James was as averse to literature as one could be…

But then, as Remus faced the front of the classroom again, the memory of a third Quidditch-related publication came to him—a bright green book with a Golden Snitch emblazoned across the front—only the pages had nothing to do with Quidditch…and they were covered in notes— _James's_ notes…

Remus's entire body went rigid with shock. Heart thundering against his ribcage, Remus turned abruptly to stare at James and Sirius. They were still watching Professor McGonagall speak about Animagi with expressions of immense concentration. James had actually taken out a scroll of parchment and a quill—and the sight of James's hand moving across his parchment, tracing ink into the same untidy scrawl that had once graced the margins of a book about the defining characteristics of werewolves, filled Remus with a blind, staggering, full-blown panic. Ears ringing, Remus climbed suddenly to his feet and gaped down at James and Sirius in horror.

"No," he said loudly.

The classroom went very silent. Blinking rapidly, Remus glanced around. Everyone was looking at him—including Professor McGongall, whose expression was half-surprised, half-disapproving.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Lupin?" she asked slowly.

Remus felt his cheeks flood with heat. He glanced furtively at James and Sirius, both of whom were eyeing him quizzically. Then, swallowing heavily, Remus shook his head and sat back down. "No, Professor."

Professor McGonagall's eyes lingered on him for a moment longer. "Very well, then. As I was saying before…"

But Remus couldn't bring himself to pay attention to a single word of the rest of Professor McGonagall's lecture. His mind was so numb, so utterly empty, that he couldn't have rubbed two thoughts together if he'd tried. When the bell finally rang to signal the end of the lesson, Remus crammed his possessions into his schoolbag at three times the speed he usually did. Then, without a word, he seized both James and Peter by their upper arms, marching them out of the Transfiguration classroom and down the ground floor corridor; Sirius followed at their heels.

At last, when Remus decided that they had put enough distance between themselves and Professor McGonagall, he released James and Peter and swiveled around, regarding all three of his friends with utter disbelief. "Are you all _insane?_ " he demanded.

At once, James's and Sirius's faces took on identically defiant, resolute expressions.

"Remus—" James began, but Remus quelled him with an uncharacteristically severe look.

"Of all of the ideas you've come up with in the past two years," Remus said fiercely, glowering at James, "this one is by far the worst."

James narrowed his eyes. "Are you finished, mate?"

"Animagi?" Remus hissed, gaping from James, to Sirius, to Peter; the latter shuffled uncomfortably. " _Animagi?_ Are you _mad?_ What on _Earth_ would possess you—?"

"This," James interjected, reaching into his schoolbag and pulling out a familiar green book—the werewolf book, still disguised as _Quidditch Through the Ages_. Opening it, he quickly flipped it to the bookmarker. Then, he held it out to Remus. "Left page, second paragraph from the bottom—read it."

Too bewildered to argue, Remus reached out and gingerly accepted the book from James, seeking out the indicated passage.

 _As an individual afflicted with lycanthropy matures, his or her werewolf form follows suit. As a result, teenaged werewolves are often considered particularly treacherous. Increased hormones, in conjunction with a larger body, make the teen wolf far more ferocious and volatile than its adult counterparts. For this reason, werewolf mortality rates are known to skyrocket between the ages of 13 and 17._

Remus stared down at the paragraph for several minutes, his mouth slightly open. Then, very slowly, he looked up at his friends. They were all watching him closely.

"I…I don't…" Remus trailed off, his throat dry.

James released a heavy sigh, reaching forward and taking the book from Remus. "It's exactly what it says," he said in a low voice. "As you go through puberty, so does the wolf."

Remus blinked rapidly.

"But we've found a way to help," James continued, his tone suddenly determined, as he slipped the book back into his bag. "We become Animagi."

Remus stared at James, long and hard.

"What?" he asked finally.

"Animagi," Peter chimed in earnestly. "We figured it out last year—werewolves only go after humans. They don't hurt animals."

Remus opened his mouth to answer—but then, he closed it again. The gears in his brain had screeched to a halt, refusing to process further. Surely…surely, his friends weren't saying what he thought they were…

"Are you telling me," Remus said slowly, "that…that you want to—?"

"We want to become Animagi and keep you company on the full moons," Sirius cut him off.

It was several, long moments before Remus's mouth was able to catch up with his mind. "That's extremely illegal."

"Er—" James ran a hand through his hair, his expression slightly sheepish. "Well—yeah…it is."

"You'd be sent to Azkaban if you were caught," Remus continued, his voice rising slightly.

"We know that," Sirius said quietly.

"You heard McGonagall today—people have _died_ trying to complete the process—"

"They just didn't prepare enough," Peter insisted.

Remus mouthed soundlessly at his friends. They were all considering him steadily, but Remus was finding it very hard to meet their gazes. Staring down at his knees, Remus shook his head slowly. "No."

"No?" Sirius demanded.

Remus glanced up.

"No, I won't let you do this," Remus said, shaking his head again. "I won't let you risk your _lives_ to help me—"

"Remus, don't you _get_ it?" James burst out angrily, drawing himself up to his full height and glaring at him. "It's _your_ life that's at stake here!"

"But—"

"Look—we're doing this with or without your approval, mate," Sirius said firmly, his gaze unwavering. "But quite frankly, we'd prefer your help. James may be the best in our year at Transfiguration, but he's rubbish at navigating a library."

James elbowed Sirius in the ribs.

Remus swallowed heavily, rubbing his forehead. "Please," he begged, as a last resort. "Please don't do this."

"Remus, you'll kill yourself if we don't," Peter said, in barely more than a whisper.

A chill stole over Remus. He turned and gaped at his friend. There was something more than just mindless fear in Peter's eyes—and suddenly, Remus knew what was going to happen before it did.

He closed his eyes and released a slow, deep breath.

Then, opening his eyes and lifting his chin, he looked at James. "You aren't going figure out how to become an Animagus by reading books about magical creatures," Remus told him. "In fact, you're going to need to get your Invisibility Cloak out and pay a visit to the restricted section—that's the only place you'll find anything."

There was a stunned pause.

Then, suddenly, James's face split into a broad grin. "I think we've been a horrible influence on you, mate," he declared, eyes twinkling. "And I mean that in the best way."

Remus rolled his eyes—but in spite of himself, he was unable to resist a small smile. "C'mon, let's get to Potions. We're fifteen minutes late."

* * *

Author's Note:

I'm going to switch to updating on Tuesday for the next several weeks because my Wednesdays have become SUUUPER busy! Hope you enjoyed this!

Ari


	13. Halloween

30 October 1973

"We've come up with a nickname for you."

Remus looked up from his library table, raising his eyebrows. James and Sirius had just dropped into the two empty chairs opposite him, grinning identically.

Remus frowned. "Nickname?" he asked suspiciously.

"Yep," James declared, his grin broadening. "Moony."

Remus stared at James. "Moony?"

"Yeah," James said excitedly. "You know, because of your—" he leaned across the library table and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, eyes twinkling, "— _furry little problem_."

Remus snorted and rolled his eyes, pulling forward his Arithmancy spellbook and picking up his quill. "It's never going to catch on, James."

"Of course it is," Sirius said indignantly. "It's brilliant. We're going to come up with nicknames for ourselves and Peter, too—we're just waiting until we've got Animagus forms."

Remus stiffened, tightening his grip on his quill slightly and avoiding his friends' eyes as he copied down a few sentences from his spellbook.

"Where is Peter, anyway?" he asked finally, trying to change the subject.

"He's gone upstairs to get the Invisibility Cloak from my trunk," James explained in a wicked tone. "We're waiting for Hagrid to come up to the castle for dinner so we can sneak into his pumpkin patch."

Remus looked up, expression wary. "And why are we sneaking into his pumpkin patch?"

Sirius smirked. "We're using Permanent Sticking Charms to stick all the pumpkins to the ground. I've had loads of practice—it's how I hung up all of my Gryffindor banners at home."

Remus frowned at his friends. "You know, Hagrid works really hard on the school pumpkins all year."

James rolled his eyes. "It's just a Halloween joke—we've done one every year."

"I don't like it," Remus said, shaking his head.

"Well, unless you can come up with something better in the next two hours, it's the only idea we've got," James retorted.

Remus opened his mouth to argue, but Sirius quickly intervened, shooting James an annoyed look. "Speaking of coming up with things," Sirius said casually, leaning forward slightly, "have you had any luck with translating the manuscript yet?"

At once, James sat bolt upright and stared at Remus, his posture tense.

Remus's stomach twisted into a knot.

Over the nine weeks that had elapsed since Remus's friends had first confided in him their positively ludicrous plan to become Animagi, James and Sirius had spent nearly every single night pilfering the Transfiguration shelves of the library's restricted section under James's Invisibility Cloak. For eight weeks, they had been unsuccessful. The closest they had come to an Animagus instruction manual had been a personal essay written by a nineteenth century Animagus by the name of Adrian Tutley, describing his own experiences with the transformation process—but the essay had turned out to be vague, lacking in explicit information, and overall useless.

Then, unexpectedly, last week, James and Sirius had tumbled into the dormitory late one night with two broad grins and a stack of withering, old papers—a seemingly ancient manuscript that described the Animagus transformation procedure in thorough detail—step-by-step—complete with illuminating diagrams. The only problem with it was that it was written in runes.

Remus was now seriously regretting his decision to take Ancient Runes.

The task of translating the manuscript had fallen immediately on his shoulders, as he was the only one among his friends enrolled in the elective. All of a sudden, Remus could no longer turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to his friends' absurd plans. He had to make a decision—either he could be an active participant, pretending to approve of the whole preposterous scheme—or he could refuse to play a role in it altogether.

Swallowing heavily, Remus averted his gaze from his friends' again and leaned over his Arithmancy spellbook in an attempt to hide his face. "Manuscript?" he asked, deciding to feign confusion.

"Don't play stupid," James sighed impatiently. "It's been a week since we found it. Have you even _looked_ at it?"

"Of course I've looked at it," Remus said defensively, without looking up.

"Well, then, what does it say?" Sirius pressed.

"I—I just…I haven't had time to look at it _closely_ ," Remus protested. "Professor Abscissa's been giving us loads of Arithmancy homework this month—and I had a Gobstones meeting yesterday—"

"We've got homework, too," Sirius interjected.

"Yeah, and Moran's been waking me up at six for Quidditch practice twice a week," James added indignantly. "But _I_ still made time to find the manuscript."

At last, Remus looked up and met James's gaze, his face slightly hard. "I've just been busy," he said stiffly. "I haven't had a chance to translate it yet, all right?"

James stared back at him for a long moment, his expression inscrutable.

Then, finally— "You're still not on board with this, are you?" James asked in a low voice.

Remus didn't answer, instead turning and pretending to examine his spellbook again. There was another tense pause.

"Mate," James said quietly, "we've told you a million times—you're putting your life in danger—"

"No, I'm not," Remus interrupted in a fierce whisper, glancing up. "All these statistics about—about _mortality_ rates and such…they're _outdated_. They're _centuries_ old—"

"Do you really want to take that risk?" Sirius demanded.

"I'd rather risk my life than all of yours," Remus said hotly. "I don't think any of you _understand_ how difficult this transformation is—"

"It's no harder than having to sit back and let you hurt yourself once a month," James retorted, glaring across the library table at Remus. "Maybe _you_ don't realize how awful you look every month after your furry little problem, but—"

"Furry little problem? Is that what you kids are calling your pets these days?"

Remus jumped in his chair, looking around. The Hogwarts Head Boy—Gryffindor seventh year Frank Longbottom—was grinning over at their table from a nearby bookshelf.

"We're not _kids_ ," James informed Frank in a scandalized tone. "We're thirteen."

"And I'll be _fourteen_ in four days," Sirius added haughtily.

Frank snorted, crossing his broad arms over his chest and strolling over to their library table to tower over James and Sirius. "As far as I'm concerned, you're all annoying titchy midgets," he said airily. "Well, except for Lupin," Frank added, winking at Remus. "He's all right, as midgets go."

Remus gave Frank a bashful smile, which Frank returned with a reassuring grin.

"You let me know if you have any more furry little problems, mate," Frank told him, smiling. "Alice is really good with animals."

"Ooh, _Alice_ ," James drawled, smirking up at Frank. "How's your _girlfriend?_ Are you taking her out on a _date_ soon?"

Remus couldn't decide whether he ought to be feeling aghast or impressed that James was attempting to take the mickey out of the Head Boy—who, apart from being older and far more influential than James, was also easily a foot taller and a foot wider. But Frank, for his part, didn't seem to be even the least bit fazed by James's tone—rather, he smiled.

"As a matter of fact, I'm taking her to her favorite teashop in Hogsmeade this weekend," Frank said lightly. "How about you, Potter? Any girls you've got your eye on?"

James's expression melted into one of disgust. "Eurgh," he said in a revolted tone, shaking his head fervently. "No, thank you." But then, suddenly, his face brightened. "Hey—we've got our first Hogsmeade trip this weekend! I forgot!"

"It's on my birthday," Sirius crowed triumphantly. "I can't wait to finally see what Honeydukes is like."

"Haven't you been there before?" Frank asked, raising his eyebrows. "You're pure-blood, aren't you?"

"My parents don't like going out to mingle unless they've got to," Sirius said contemptuously. "They never let me and my brother go to Hogsmeade when we were children."

"They're nutters," James added helpfully—and both Sirius and Frank snorted with laughter. Remus grinned, shaking his head.

"Well, Honeydukes is a great place to start," Frank said, smiling at Sirius. "And I bet you'll enjoy Zonko's, too. Just make sure you stay away from the Shrieking Shack," he added mysteriously.

"The Shrieking Shack?" James asked curiously. "What's that?"

"It's an abandoned house on the far end of the High Street," Frank explained. "According to the villagers, it's the most haunted building in all of Britain—but no one's ever dared to go inside and see for themselves. Well, not that they'd be able to. It hasn't got any doors."

Remus's heart was pounding against his ribcage. Abandoned house…haunted…no doors… _no_ , surely not…

"Why do the villagers say it's haunted?" Sirius wanted to know.

"They say they hear screams coming from it sometimes, late at night," Frank said, frowning. "Personally, I think it's all just a load of rubbish, but Alice is pretty convinced. She heard a rumor from one of her friends that Dumbledore actually bought the house a few years ago to house some violent spirits from Hogwarts—though I have no idea what kinds of _spirits_ would be making the kinds of noises the villagers describe," Frank added, shaking his head. "Madam Rosmerta—the Three Broomsticks barmaid—told us that it sounds like someone being tortured for hours on end."

Both James and Sirius had stopped looking curious. Sirius turned and shot Remus a furtive, searching glance—but Remus stared straight down at the table, his stomach churning unpleasantly.

"Well, I've got to get back to my Transfiguration essay," Frank sighed, yawning and stretching his arms. "I'll talk to you lot later. Keep that furry little problem under control, Lupin," Frank added, grinning. Then, with a wave, he turned and vanished down a nearby aisle of the library.

Remus turned around to watch him walk away, just so that he wouldn't have to face his friends right away. Frank's words were still ringing painfully in his ears: _"…it sounds like someone being tortured for hours on end."_ Finally, after several excruciatingly long minutes, Remus swallowed, looking up at James and Sirius. They were both considering him closely.

There was a lingering pause.

Then— "Give me an hour," Remus whispered hoarsely.

James blinked. Sirius frowned.

"What—?" James began in a bewildered tone.

"Give me an hour," Remus cut him off. "I'll have the first step of the transformation translated in an hour."

Both James's and Sirius's jaws dropped.

"Really?" James gasped, his eyes lighting up like lamps.

"Against my better judgment, yes," Remus sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes.

James and Sirius cried out in delight, slapping each other a loud high-five. Remus shushed them fiercely.

"Do you want Pince to come after us?" he hissed. "Keep it down." Shaking his head, Remus put down his quill and leaned backwards in his chair, crossing his arms. "I've got one condition for helping though."

James's expression became wary. "What is it?" he asked slowly.

Remus smirked. "You leave Hagrid's pumpkins alone."

James and Sirius groaned.

* * *

Remus arrived at the Great Hall for dinner that evening with a final translation of the first page of the manuscript. It had taken him the better part of the hour. Some of the runes had been completely unfamiliar to him—and he hadn't been able to find them in _Spellman's Syllabary_ either. A combination of intuition and sheer luck had gotten him to the point of feeling confident enough in his translation to hand it over to his friends.

Despite his initial reluctance to assist his friends with their scheme, Remus had ultimately taken his role as runes translator very seriously. It hadn't taken him long to recognize that his friends' safety now rested in his hands—all it would take was _one_ mistranslation, and the entire transformation process would be skewed. And since his friends couldn't seem to be convinced _not_ to go through with it, Remus decided that he might as well help them to the best of his abilities.

Swinging himself into the empty seat next to Peter on the bench, Remus leaned across the Gryffindor table and set the translation down in front of James and Sirius. With a small gasp, Sirius immediately reached out and snatched it up—and for several moments, there was silence among the group of four, as both Sirius's and James's eyes moved rapidly across the parchment.

Finally, Sirius glanced up from the parchment. "Mandrake leaves?" he asked incredulously.

"That's what it says," Remus nodded.

"We have to keep one in our mouths for a whole _month?_ " James gaped down at the translation over Sirius's shoulder.

"Seems like it," Remus shrugged, rather enjoying himself.

"But what if we swallow it?" Peter asked anxiously. "Or what if it starts to _rot?_ "

"Peter, you don't have to go through with this if you don't want to," Remus told him gently.

"Nice try, Remus," James interjected vehemently. "So, we have to keep a leaf in our mouth for a month. That's nothing!"

"Yeah," Sirius chimed in enthusiastically. "I'll even teach you both how to use a Sticking Charm to hold it in place!"

Peter looked somewhat reassured.

"Yes, well, that's the least of our problems," Remus said in a low voice, shaking his head. "We haven't _got_ any Mandrake leaves, have we? Professor Sprout's Mandrakes are still seedlings."

James groaned and Sirius's face fell, but Peter piped up, "What about Professor Slughorn? D'you think he might have any in his supply closet?"

"Don't they have to be fresh leaves?" Sirius asked Remus doubtfully.

Remus shrugged. "It doesn't specify."

"Isn't there any way we can find out for sure?" James asked.

"Not unless you want people to figure out what you're doing," Remus said darkly. "You were lucky to find this manuscript in the library at all—Professor Dumbledore probably doesn't know it exists."

James sighed, taking the translation from Sirius and staring at it. "Well, I suppose there's no harm in checking Slughorn's stores. I mean, worst case, we'll have to forget about the Mandrake leaves for now—but we might find something even _cooler_ in there!"

Remus snorted.

After dinner, Remus, James, Sirius, and Peter slunk down to the dungeons and assembled outside the Potions classroom. All four boys could no longer completely fit under James's Invisibility Cloak at the same time, and although Remus had been perfectly content with the idea of waiting upstairs in the common room while the other three raided the Potions stores, James and Sirius had insisted that he accompany them as a lookout—which ended up being a very good thing. Because the first thing Remus saw when his friends—hidden under the Cloak—pushed open the door to the classroom was Professor Slughorn himself, munching on a plate of steak-and-kidney pie at his desk while grading papers.

Without conscious thought, Remus stepped into the room after his invisible friends, thinking rapidly.

"Hello, Professor," Remus greeted him politely, striding up to Professor Slughorn's desk. "I'm very sorry to intrude, sir, but I was wondering whether you might have had a chance to look over our most recent papers." Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw the door of the Potions supply closet open and close silently.

"Ah, yes—I finished grading them just an hour ago, Mr. Lupin," Professor Slughorn said, letting out a slightly uneasy chuckle and twisting his enormous, walrus-like mustache around his finger. "In fact, I was planning on handing them back after class tomorrow."

Although Professor Slughorn had never treated Remus with anything other than the utmost respect and understanding, it had always been clear to Remus that of all of the heads of houses, the Potions master was the most uncomfortable with his lycanthropy. His tone always became slightly jittery and his smile rather forced whenever Remus approached him. Remus tried not to take it too personally.

"I was hoping that I might be able to know my score earlier, Professor," Remus said, in the most earnest tone he could muster. "I really want to do well on our test tomorrow, sir, and hearing your comments on my essay would be very helpful."

"I—ah—well…I don't see why not," Professor Slughorn said nervously, shuffling through a stack of papers on his desk. "Let me see…Mulciber…Moon…Macdonald—aha, Lupin."

Remus spent the next several minutes half-listening to Professor Slughorn explain the weaker points of his thesis while surreptitiously shooting apprehensive glances in the direction of the Potions storeroom. At last, when Remus caught sight of the closet door opening and closing, he released a silent breath of relief.

"Thank you so much for your help, Professor," Remus said firmly, cutting Professor Slughorn off midsentence in his assessment of Remus's concluding paragraph. "This was really helpful. I feel much more prepared now."

"Yes—yes, very good," Professor Slughorn said, and the relief in his expression was palpable. Remus felt a small twinge of hurt, but he quickly pushed it away. "Good luck, Mr. Lupin. Take care, now."

Remus gave Professor Slughorn a friendly wave before turning and heading for the door. Once he was safely back in the dungeon corridor, he swiveled around with his arms crossed. "You owe me one," he grouched, to the stretch of air in front of him. "I just spent ten minutes listening to Slughorn pick my essay to pieces for your sakes."

With a soft _swish_ , James swept the Invisibility Cloak off, revealing all three boys. "He didn't pick your essay to pieces," James said reasonably, folding the Invisibility Cloak up and tucking it into the inner pocket of his regular cloak. "In fact, he sounded like he liked it. You'll probably get a good mark, as usual."

Remus shook his head, turning to face Peter. The short, round-faced boy was clutching a small wooden jar. The words 'MANDRAKE LEAVES' were emblazoned across the lid in large, fading black text.

"You stole the _whole jar?_ " Remus demanded in a fierce whisper, horrified.

"Relax," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "He's got three more of these in his supplies—this one's just the oldest. I doubt he'll even notice it's gone."

Suddenly, the jar shook violently in Peter's hands and he let out a squeak of alarm, recoiling.

"What was _that?_ " James asked, staring, wide-eyed, at the jar.

"I don't know," Peter whispered fearfully, shoving the jar into James's arms and taking a sizable step backwards. Just then, the jar trembled again, making all four of the boys jump.

There was a frightened pause.

Then— "Let's open it," Sirius declared, standing up straighter and appraising the jar through slightly narrowed eyes.

"Sirius, _no_ ," Peter gasped, shaking his head furiously. "What if it _attacks_ us?"

"Don't be stupid," James said impatiently, drawing his wand. "It's probably just an insect or something. Here—" he pushed the jar back into Peter's hands, raising his wand, "— _Alohomora_."

With a swish and a flick of James's wrist, the lid of the jar creaked and popped off. Then, suddenly, something large, gray, and slimy—with hairy brown legs—squeezed itself out of the little wooden jar and fell onto the flagstone floor of the dungeon corridor with a loud _plop_ , where it lay unmoving.

" _Eurgh_ ," James exclaimed, staring down at the slimy object in disgust. "That's _revolting_."

"What _is_ it?" Sirius asked, wrinkling his nose and bending over the object.

"I can't tell if it's a slug with a tarantula's legs, or a tarantula with a slug's body," James observed in a repulsed tone. "It looks like it couldn't decide."

Something snapped into place in Remus's mind.

"Peter, do the Mandrake leaves in the jar look all right?" Remus asked suddenly; the shortest boy was still holding the wooden jar. "They aren't—slimy—or anything, are they?"

Peter looked into the jar. "No, they look completely fine," he said, sounding bewildered.

Remus grinned, taking a step closer to the shapeless glob on the floor, whose hairy brown legs were twitching pathetically. "This is a Boggart."

"No, it's not," Sirius said at once, raising his eyebrows at Remus. "We _just_ covered Boggarts in Defense Against the Dark Arts last month. It's supposed to try and scare us."

"It _is_ trying," Remus laughed. "It's just confused—it's trying to scare James and Peter at the same time."

"Well, it needs to try a little harder," James declared, nudging the Boggart with his foot.

"Don't kick it," Remus protested.

"What should we do with it, then?" Sirius asked.

The corners of Remus's lips lifted in a smirk. "I've got an idea for a Halloween prank."

* * *

31 October 1973

The next evening, an hour before the Halloween feast was due to begin, Remus, James, Sirius, and Peter were squashed uncomfortably together in a shadowy corner of the dungeons, tucked—mostly—out of sight under James's Cloak.

They were all staring at an ornate jewelry box—one that Sirius had stolen from his cousin Narcissa out of spite over the summer—that was sitting innocently in the middle of the corridor. It had the Black family crest embedded into it with rows of alternating emeralds and diamonds.

"Are you sure this is where the Slytherin common room is?" James asked quietly, frowning at the stone wall on the opposite side of the corridor.

"This is where Regulus always disappears after dinner," Sirius whispered back, shrugging. "And how many times have we seen Snivellus go down these stairs?"

"But it's been almost fifteen minutes," James muttered. "D'you think it's too obvious that it's a trap?"

"No," Sirius murmured back, smirking. "All snakes love glittery green things."

James began shaking with breathless laughter, and Remus elbowed him in the ribs.

"Quiet," he hissed. "I hear something."

James fell silent and all four boys perked up slightly as the unmistakable sound of distant footsteps began echoing down the staircase. Then, all of a sudden, the tall, thin form of Achilles Wilkes—a fellow third year—appeared at the foot of the stairs.

" _Ha!_ " James whispered triumphantly, and Remus elbowed him in the ribs again, though he too was grinning.

Remus watched with bated breath as Wilkes slowly approached the jewelry box, his expression wary. Very carefully, he bent down and picked it up, staring at it. Then, he held it up to his ear and shook it experimentally—and at that very moment, it trembled vigorously, causing Wilkes to yelp and drop it.

As the emerald-studded jewelry box hit the ground, its lid flew off with a loud _snap_ —and then, with a sudden _whoosh_ , a pigeon shot out of the box and began flapping around Wilkes's head, squawking loudly.

Wilkes shrieked in terror, swatting his hands around his head—to no avail. Then, still screaming, the skinny Slytherin turned and sprinted back up the stone staircase. The Boggart followed in hot pursuit, continuing to squawk noisily.

Sirius and James collapsed onto each other, howling with laughter. The Invisibility Cloak slipped off of them and fell to the ground, and Remus stooped to pick it up, chuckling.

"I think he broke your box, Sirius," observed Peter—who was pink-faced from laughing, too—as he retrieved the broken pieces of the Black family jewelry box.

"Who cares?" Sirius wheezed, clutching James's shoulder for support as he attempted to stagger to his feet. "Achilles Wilkes is scared of _pigeons!_ "

"Happy Halloween," Remus said, smirking, and James and Sirius broke into fresh laughter.

* * *

Author's Note:

A nice long chapter for you all today! Sorry, I know I promised I'd post on Tuesday, but between final exams and an INTENSE work schedule, time has been a precious commodity these past couple days. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this! It was fun to write :D

Also, I really hope I didn't scare anyone with this chapter title! Don't worry, we've still got quite some ways to go until *that* Halloween...

Ari


	14. Marauders

9 March 1974

It was a cloudy, dreary Saturday afternoon, and Remus was tucked into his customary cot in the Hospital Wing, recovering from the previous night's full moon with the _Daily Prophet_ spread out on his lap. James, Sirius, and Peter were all seated around the bed as well; James and Peter occupied the wooden chairs on either side of the cot, while Sirius was sprawled across the mattress near Remus's feet. An enormous tin of Chocolate Frogs—an early birthday present to Remus from his friends—was propped open on the center of the bed, surrounded by empty Chocolate Frog wrappers.

" _Amato Animo Animato Animagus…Amato Animo Animato Animagus…_ "

Remus looked up from his newspaper, half-amused, half-exasperated. Sirius's eyes were closed and his expression was screwed up in immense concentration, as he muttered under his breath.

"Do you _have_ to do this now?" Remus asked him, rolling his eyes. "Isn't it bad enough that I've got to listen to James _sing_ it in the shower every morning?"

Sirius didn't respond, but James glanced at Remus over his copy of _Seeker Weekly_. "He forgot to do it yesterday—he's got to do it three extra times today to make up for it."

Remus sighed softly, shaking his head, as he picked up the _Prophet_ again. After four long and challenging months—that had included carrying Mandrake leaves in their mouths for three-and-a-half weeks, concocting and consuming an extremely difficult (and disgusting) potion, and mastering several complex Transfiguration concepts—James, Sirius, and Peter had finally arrived at the final stage of the transformation process: daily meditation, while reciting a positively _infuriating_ incantation forty-seven times. After two months of these daily recitations, the three boys would finally, _finally_ be ready to attempt the actual, physical transformation—although, according to the manuscript, _this_ was the part of the process where most Animagi hopefuls encountered obstacles—and in some rare cases, death.

Remus quickly pushed the thought away, turning back to his newspaper. The front page had a large picture of Eugenia Jenkins splashed across the front, along with the headline _'MINISTER FOR MAGIC UNPREPARED FOR HARDSHIPS OF WARTIME?'_ Underneath this article was another one about recent changes within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement…Remus skimmed over it…and then, suddenly, tucked near the bottom of the page, Remus caught sight of a headline that made him pause: _'Muggle-born couple found dead in Derby, authorities suspect Death Eater involvement.'_

Remus stared down at the headline for a long moment. It was not the first article about the death of a Muggle-born he'd seen in the past several months—but it was the first one that had a suspect attached to it. _Death Eater_. The words sent an unexpected shiver chasing down Remus's spine—they sounded eerily familiar, even though he was certain that he'd never heard them before.

Swallowing, he glanced up at his friends. "Hey—have any of you ever heard of…Death Eaters?"

Peter shook his head, looking mystified—but James's expression was thoughtful.

"It sounds really familiar," he said slowly, frowning. "Are they a band or something?"

Remus opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, Sirius made a strangled noise in his throat. Remus, James, and Peter all turned to look at him. He was still muttering the Animagus incantation under his breath, but his eyes were wide and his posture was tense.

Remus stared at him. "You know what a Death Eater is?"

Sirius nodded vigorously.

"What is it?" James asked, raising his eyebrows.

Sirius shot James an annoyed look, raising his hand and pointing it at his mouth—he was still reciting the incantation. Then, turning back to Remus, Sirius gestured at the newspaper, his expression inquisitive.

Remus frowned. "What—?"

"He wants you to read the article," James interrupted. "What does it say about Death Eaters?"

"Oh," Remus gave a little start, turning back to the newspaper and quickly scanning the article. _Two Muggle-borns were discovered dead in their bed Friday evening…Aurors determined the cause of death to be the Killing Curse…the attack has been attributed to a recently exposed band of individuals called "Death Eaters," an organization of—_

"—pure-blood supremacists," Remus read aloud, his stomach sinking. He glanced back up at his friends. "They're pure-blood supremacists."

James's expression melted into one of disgust. "I know where I've heard of them," he said in a low voice. "I overheard my uncle telling my dad about them on Christmas Eve." James's uncle Caradoc was a high-ranking official in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Remus knew.

"… _Amato Animo Animato Animagus_ —they aren't just supremacists," Sirius burst out suddenly, panting, as he finished his forty-seventh recitation at last. "They're radicals—they practice the Dark Arts."

Remus looked at Sirius in surprise. "How d'you know that?"

A dark look crossed Sirius's face. "I remember my cousin and her husband mentioning them at Christmas dinner."

"Your cousin—Andromeda?" Peter asked, sounding utterly bewildered.

"No—would _Meda_ be at Christmas dinner?" Sirius demanded, sounding resentful. "It was Bella."

"What did she say about them?" James asked curiously.

Sirius scowled. "That she thought they had the right idea about Muggle-borns," he said contemptuously. "And then, my entire family agreed—as if we aren't all related to one. It's like they've forgotten Andromeda exists."

Remus exchanged a look with James.

"Mate," James said quietly. "We know you don't feel the same way they do—"

"Doesn't change the fact that I'm related to them, does it?" Sirius asked bitterly, glaring down at his knees. "I'm a Black. _Toujours Pur_ ," he added in a scornful voice.

Remus stared at Sirius, slightly openmouthed. He had always known Sirius's relationship with his family to be a contentious one, but he'd never heard Sirius say anything like this before—like he actually resented their existence. He glanced at James and Peter. Peter, too, was staring at Sirius in shock—but James's expression was curiously determined.

"Let's come up with a name," he said suddenly, closing his magazine and sitting up straight.

Remus startled, frowning at him. "A name?"

"Yeah," James nodded. "A name for ourselves."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "What, you've decided 'Moony' isn't embarrassing enough?"

James grinned, shaking his head. "No—I meant a name for _all_ of us," he said. "A group name—you know, like 'Death Eaters,' except—well, something that expresses _our_ mission."

"Our _mission?_ " Remus asked, laughing. "And what exactly would _that_ be?"

"Making our teachers' lives hell," James said promptly.

Peter laughed—and with a twinge of relief, Remus saw a corner of Sirius's lips twitch.

"Well, believe it or not, I've already got a name for you two," Remus said lightly, pointing from James to Sirius.

Sirius looked around, frowning, and James narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"The Gryffin-dolts," Remus said, smirking.

Peter giggled, as James and Sirius both threw empty Chocolate Frog boxes at Remus. Remus ducked to avoid them—but with James's unerring aim as a Chaser, his box managed to hit Remus squarely on the forehead nonetheless. Rubbing his forehead, Remus threw James a dirty look. James smirked.

"How about the Adventure Seekers?" Sirius asked. "For a name, I mean."

"Hmm," James said thoughtfully, wrinkling his nose. "It's not really… _catchy_ , is it?"

"Are you joking?" Remus asked James in disbelief. "Adventure Seekers isn't catchy, but _Moony_ is?"

"Hang on—that's it," James said excitedly. "We can be the _furry little problem-solvers_ —because that's what we're doing, isn't it? We're solving Moony's furry little problem!"

There was a moment of stunned silence, as Remus, Sirius, and Peter all stared at James.

Then— "James," Sirius said slowly. "That makes us sound like a bunch of small, hairy detectives."

They all burst into laughter—and once they started, it was difficult to stop. Remus could feel the tension of the past several minutes—Sirius's family, Death Eaters, the ominous newspaper headline—melting away, as he fell back against his pillows, clutching his ribs. They were all laughing so hard that none of them heard Madam Pomfrey's office door open or saw the matron herself descend upon the infirmary, her expression stern.

"Now, _really_ ," she snapped, sweeping towards Remus's cot, arms crossed. "What is all this racket about? Mr. Lupin needs to _rest_ , and he certainly won't be able to do that with the three of you disturbing him. Come along, now, off you go—"

"Oh, Madam Pomfrey, not _again_ ," James groaned. "We weren't _disturbing_ him—we were just having a bit of fun!"

"Yes, well, I'm afraid I cannot allow _fun_ in my Hospital Wing, Mr. Potter—"

"We brought him chocolate," Sirius protested, pointing at the half-eaten tin of Chocolate Frogs near Remus's feet. "We're helping him get better, ma'am, we promise."

"And Remus wants us here, Madam Pomfrey," Peter added, his tone earnest. "Don't you, Remus?"

"I do," Remus agreed, looking at the matron beseechingly. "Please, ma'am—can't they stay?"

Madam Pomfrey looked at him—and not for the first time did Remus wonder whether she had worked out that he had confided in his friends about his condition. Remus could have sworn that he saw her expression soften, ever-so-slightly.

At last, with a disapproving sniff, the matron strode over to Remus's bedside table and measured a generous amount of pain potion into a goblet. "Here," she told him, handing him the goblet. "Drink this, and your friends can stay."

Remus beamed at her, accepting the pain potion. Meanwhile, out of the corner of his eye, he saw James punch Sirius's shoulder jubilantly.

Madam Pomfrey rolled her eyes. "The four of you ought just to move your things in here," she huffed, as she turned around and swept back towards her office. "Between Pettigrew's Potions accidents, Potter's Quidditch injuries, and Black's corridor brawls, I'm going to need to hire an entire hospital staff to keep you all in order, always marauding about the castle, getting yourselves hurt…" With a sharp _click_ , the office door snapped shut behind her.

Remus smiled and shook his head, as he raised the goblet of pale blue potion to his lips and took a sip. Grimacing at the vinegary taste, he leaned back against his pillows and closed his eyes.

"Hey—what did she just say about us?" asked James's voice suddenly.

Remus opened his eyes. "What?" he asked, frowning at James.

"She just said something about us," James continued, eyebrows furrowed. "That we're always…maroading around the castle."

"Marauding," Sirius corrected. "It means exploring, I reckon."

"Not quite," Remus shook his head. "It means…looting, or raiding. Marauders are explorers that are after something—like treasure."

"You mean, like pirates?" Peter asked excitedly.

Remus hummed thoughtfully. "Kind of."

"No—you mean, like _outlaws_ ," James said in an awed voice, his eyes gleaming. "We aren't after gold—we're after the glory."

Remus looked at James. "Exactly."

James's grin was luminescent. "Marauders— _that's_ what we are."

"It's got a ring to it," Sirius mused, snatching up a Chocolate Frog from the tin and stretching out on the foot of Remus's bed again.

* * *

Author's Note:

Hi, everyone! I have a not-so-subtle announcement to make: I will be publishing a BIG, FUN holiday project tomorrow, so keep your eyes peeled! :D

Ari


	15. Truth

9 August 1975

Remus threw out his arms to steady himself as he spun out of the Potters' red-bricked fireplace and into their parlor with a blaze of green.

"Oh—good afternoon, Remus, dear," said Mrs. Potter warmly, from where she was tucked into her armchair, thumbing through a book. "How are you?"

"I'm doing well, thank you," Remus said politely, dusting a few flecks of soot off his sleeves. "How are you, Mrs. Potter?"

"I'm just fine, dear," Mrs. Potter chuckled, putting down her book. "I do wish you'd teach James some of your manners."

Remus grinned bashfully. "I always try, Mrs. Potter."

Mrs. Potter smiled. "Of course you do. He's in the back garden with Sirius and Peter, doing Merlin knows what—they've been out there for hours. I'll send Hetty out with some lemonade in a few minutes."

Remus returned her smile and thanked her, before turning and heading for the parlor's doorway. Setting off down the central hallway of the Potters' enormous manor home, Remus walked past rows and rows of guest bedrooms, until he reached the back antechamber. Then, pushing open the door to the back garden, he stepped into the muggy summer air to find James, Sirius, and Peter lying on their backs under the shade of an enormous birch tree.

"Hey," Remus greeted them as he approached.

James shot upright, glasses becoming lopsided, his expression tense—but when he saw that it was Remus, his shoulders relaxed. "Merlin, I thought you were my mum," he muttered, shaking his head as he lay back down.

Remus snorted, sitting cross-legged on the grass next to James. "Guilty conscience?"

"It comes with spending your summer attempting an illegal Animagus transformation in your parents' backyard," James said in a low voice, shielding his face from the blazing sun with his hand.

"Yeah, your mum's getting suspicious, I reckon," Remus told him, stretching out his legs. "Have you three been out here all day?"

"Yes," Peter groaned, rolling onto his stomach and burying his face in his arms. "And we'll probably be out here all night, too."

"Still no luck?" Remus asked sympathetically.

"Do these look like the faces of three lucky people to you?" Sirius grumbled, flicking his dark hair out of his eyes and rubbing his temples with the heels of his palms.

Remus sighed, shaking his head. "I've read the manuscript cover to cover and it just doesn't have any more instruction. It just says, 'Attempt the physical transformation.' It doesn't mention a single thing about how long it ought to take—"

"Yeah, well, it depends on the wizard, doesn't it?" James exhaled heavily, dragging himself upright and leaning back against the trunk of the birch tree. "I mean, we've only been trying a year. I remember McGonagall saying in class third year that it took her eight months, and she was eighteen—and that Adrian Tutley bloke said in his personal essay that it took him fourteen years."

Peter made a strangled noise and poked his head up from the burrow of his arms, his expression aghast. "Fourteen _years?_ I don't remember reading that—!"

"That's because James and I hid that page from you," Sirius muttered without opening his eyes, his face half-mashed into the grass. Peter mouthed soundlessly as Sirius turned to James. "I think we should take a break, mate."

"Yeah, all right," James sighed. "Hetty!"

With a loud _crack_ , the Potters' house elf appeared and gave James a low bow. "Master Potter?"

"Could you bring us four lemonades, please?" James asked kindly. "And maybe some of the chicken from last night, too, if there's any left?"

"Right away, Master Potter, sir," Hetty squeaked, and with another low bow and a _crack_ , she disappeared.

Remus looked at James, raising his eyebrows. "We're eating leftovers at three in the afternoon?" he asked, amused.

"What?" James asked defensively. "We're heading into O.W.L. year—we need all the strength we can get."

Remus laughed.

"Speaking of owls," Sirius said suddenly, sitting up and squinting at the late-afternoon sky, "I'll be a bowtruckle if that isn't our booklists."

Remus followed Sirius's gaze to the horizon—and sure enough, beyond the smattering of trees in the Potters' backyard, four brown specks were clearly visible in the distance, growing larger by the second.

"How did the school know I'd be at your house today?" Remus asked James in amazement, scrambling onto his knees and staring up at the owls.

"Please," James snorted. "You three are always at my house."

Within minutes, the four handsome tawny owls had flown clear over the Potters' garden fence and swooped down to land lightly on the grass—and at that very moment, Hetty returned with a _crack_ , bearing a platter of chicken and a tray of four tall goblets of lemonade.

Taking a sip of lemonade from his goblet, Remus carefully unfastened his letter from the talon of the owl nearest to him.

"Who d'you think our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor will be?" Sirius asked, slitting open his envelope while gnawing on a chicken leg.

"How d'you know Professor Fawcett's gone?" Peter asked, frowning at Sirius over his own letter.

"She quit. She's pregnant," Sirius said nonchalantly, holding his chicken leg between his teeth as he unfolded his letter. "I heard her telling Flitwick at the end of last year." He frowned down at his booklist. "Hmm…let's see…they want us to buy _The Dark Arts Outsmarted_ this year." He paused, raising his eyebrows. "That actually sounds promising, doesn't it?" he asked in an impressed voice.

"Well, it certainly beats _An A to Z of Spooky Spells_ ," James snorted, shaking his head as he scanned his own booklist. "I don't think Fawcett realized she was teaching fourteen-year-olds, the way she used to talk to us."

"Well, pretty soon she'll have an actual baby to baby," Sirius snickered, setting down his booklist and taking a bite of chicken. Chewing and swallowing, he settled back onto his elbows and looked at Remus—and he frowned. "Moony, what's the matter?"

Remus didn't answer. He was too busy gaping down at his letter in astonishment, his ears ringing. One sentence was staring innocently back up at him, neatly printed, plain as day: _We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected as Gryffindor Prefect for your year_.

"What on Earth are you staring at?" James asked impatiently, bounding onto his knees to scrutinize Remus's letter over his shoulder. Then, he gasped, snatching the letter out of Remus's hands. " _Prefect?_ "

Sirius swore loudly, gaping at Remus. "No way."

" _Yes_ way," James exclaimed, his hazel eyes as round as gobstones as they moved over Remus's letter. "Here—let's see if he's got the badge."

Before Remus could so much as react, James had seized his envelope from the grass and turned it upside down—and with a flash of scarlet and gold, a palm-sized badge with an enormous golden 'P' engraved onto it fell into Remus's lap. Remus could only blink at it.

Sirius swore again, in a hushed voice this time, gawking the badge. "I forgot Prefects were selected in fifth year," he said, shaking his head. He looked at Remus, grinning broadly. "Congrats, mate—not that there was ever a question of who was going to get it."

"I-I—" Remus stammered, reaching down with numb fingers to pick up the badge. "I—don't—"

"Oh, _c'mon_ , you can't honestly be surprised," James told him incredulously. "We've known who our Prefects would be for _years_ —you and Evans were a dead cert."

"You're sure it'll be Lily?" Peter asked curiously. "It could be Mary—or Honora. They've got good marks, too."

"Nah, just wait and see—it'll be Evans," James said confidently. Then, he smirked at Remus. "Though I bet Moony would've loved the chance to patrol the corridors with Macdonald. Wouldn't you, mate?"

Sirius snickered. "Moony and Mary, a library love affair."

James grinned. "You should ask her to Hogsmeade this year, mate. Or maybe, you could just ask her to the library—I'm sure she'd love either."

Sirius howled with laughter and Peter stifled a titter behind his hand—but Remus couldn't even muster up a retort as he normally would have. He was completely out of his head, gazing at the Prefect badge in utter amazement. Prefect. _Prefect_. He had never, _ever_ imagined…and yet…

"Who d'you reckon the other Prefects will be?" Sirius asked, tossing his skinless chicken leg onto the grass and picking up his lemonade goblet.

"Stebbins and Stump for Hufflepuff, probably," James mused, "and Aubrey and Wildsmith for Ravenclaw—and Mulciber and Helfer for Slytherin. Slughorn loves them."

"Eurgh, not _Helfer_ ," Sirius said in a tone of disgust. "She's a cow if ever I've met one."

"You asked her to Hogsmeade in February," Peter said, sounding bewildered.

"Yeah, and he's still bitter that she turned him down," James smirked at Sirius.

Sirius threw him a filthy look. "Please," he snorted. "I've been turned down _once_. I think I lost track of how many times Evans called you an arrogant toerag last year."

James cheeks turned slightly pink. "It's a work in progress," he mumbled. "She'll definitely say yes this year."

"Of course she will," Sirius rolled his eyes. "And I hear my mother's winning the Best Mum of the Year award."

Peter laughed as James threw a chicken bone at Sirius's head. Meanwhile, Remus shoved his Prefect badge, booklist, and school letter back into his square envelope, and scrambled to his feet.

"Hey—where're you going?" James demanded, as Remus began racing down the length of the garden.

"Home!" Remus called over his shoulder, grinning from ear to ear, as he flung open the Potters' back door. "I've got to show my parents my Prefect badge!"

Chest bursting with exhilaration, Remus flew down the anteroom, down the long central corridor, and back into the parlor. Blurting out a hasty excuse to a very bewildered-looking Mrs. Potter, Remus seized a fistful of Floo powder from the glass bowl on the mantel and hurled it into the fireplace. The flames turned emerald-green and roared, growing higher, as Remus stepped into them.

"Shell Cottage!" he bellowed.

At once, he began to spin very fast, and the Potters' parlor was whipped out of sight in a rush of green. Blurred fireplaces flashed past him in quick succession, and Remus's heart hummed with adrenaline. At last, several moments later, he felt himself begin to slow down—and with a roaring _whoosh_ , he tripped out of his own fireplace and into the cottage's snug, little sitting room.

"Mum!" he exclaimed loudly, sprinting towards the nearby kitchen. "Mum!"

"What? What is it?" came Mum's frantic answer from the stove, as she whirled around, her expression terrified. "What's happened?"

"Look!" Remus cried excitedly, plunging his hand into the envelope and withdrawing his Prefect badge. "Look, Mum! I'm a Prefect—I've been chosen as a school Prefect!"

Mum's jaw dropped.

"I—oh, _Remus!_ " she cried in a strangled voice, her face splitting into a luminous smile as she reached out and took the badge from Remus. " _Congratulations_ , love! I'm so proud of you!"

Remus beamed at his mother. "Is Dad upstairs?"

"Yes, yes, he's in his study," Mum said breathlessly, still gazing down at the badge as though it were a jewel. "Go up and show him right away—I'm going to go down to the village and buy us a cake— _oh_ , this is so _wonderful!_ "

Remus grinned, warmth bubbling in his stomach from his mother's excitement. The tired lines around her eyes looked suddenly less prominent, her face brighter than Remus had seen it in years. Taking the badge back from his mother, Remus gave her a quick hug, then turned and hurried out of the kitchen, towards the staircase. He took the stairs two at a time, coming to an unsteady standstill outside his father's study. Raising his hand, he knocked fervently.

"Come in," came Dad's voice from inside.

Grinning, Remus shoved the door open.

"Remus," Dad rose from his desk, looking bemused. "I thought you went to James's—"

"I'm a Prefect!" Remus burst out eagerly, holding his badge up for his father to see. "I've been selected—I'm a Gryffindor Prefect!"

Dad's face went blank.

Then, slowly, an astounded expression spread across his features.

"Prefect," he breathed, as though he'd never heard of such a thing.

Remus's eyes shone. "Yeah," he said, his heart surging with pride. "I mean, I know it doesn't change everything—I know it'll still be hard for me to get a job after Hogwarts—but this has got to count for something, right, Dad?"

Dad stared at the badge, his dark eyes filled with an emotion that was strangely familiar to Remus, though he couldn't quite place it. "Yes," Dad agreed, his voice oddly faraway. "Yes, Remus, this is—extraordinary. Congratulations, son. You deserve this."

Remus felt his heart sink slightly. "Dad?" he asked, frowning. "Are you—is everything all right?"

Dad looked up and met his gaze. And then, right before Remus's eyes—for the only time in Remus's memory—Dad's expression crumpled, and his eyes filled with tears.

"Dad," Remus gasped, stepping forward. "D-Dad, what—?"

"I wouldn't blame you if you never forgave me," Dad said in a choked voice, collapsing into his chair and dropping his head to his palms. "I wouldn't blame you—it's my fault, it was all my fault—"

"Dad, you're scaring me," Remus whispered, taking another step towards his father's desk. "What're you talking about?"

Dad put down his hands and faced Remus again—and the shattered expression on his father's face caused Remus's stomach to drop like a stone.

"It was my fault," Dad said again, his voice cracking. "It was all my fault that…that you became a werewolf."

It was as though the air had been sucked out of Remus's lungs, he couldn't breathe. The floor of his father's study seemed to fly up from beneath him—Remus's head began to spin from the effort to process the words coming out of Dad's mouth.

"When you were just a toddler," Dad croaked, "I became part of a committee at the Ministry that was in charge of educating Law Enforcement officials on Dark creatures. One day, the Aurors brought in a—a filthy-looking man—and I knew immediately that he was a werewolf. But when I told this to the other committee members, they—they just— _laughed_. They made a fool of me—called me paranoid, and—and in my anger, I said something that I will never— _never_ forget."

Remus's hands were shaking violently. He clenched his trembling fingers around his Prefect badge so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"I stood up—I stood up and looked at the werewolf sitting in front of me, and I said—I said that werewolves were soulless, evil creatures," Dad's voice less than a whisper, frail and fractured. "Soulless, evil creatures, deserving nothing but—death."

Remus felt something inside him plummeting, plummeting to his feet, leaving him forever. He reeled backwards from his father's desk, feeling nauseous, and the Prefect badge slipped from his fingers. Dad made a strangled, distraught sound, rising unsteadily to his feet.

"He tracked me down," he sobbed, coming around the desk and dropping to his knees. "The man—the werewolf—Fenrir Greyback—he—he must have followed me home that night. He found us—he found y-you—and then, one day, just a month before your fifth birthday, he—he—"

Remus couldn't speak—he couldn't think—the screaming in his brain was drowning out all coherent thought. It wasn't possible—it couldn't be possible—his father could not have said those things—his father, who defended Remus's every right, who had dedicated his life to Remus's welfare, who would fight tooth and nail—give up everything—for Remus to have a normal life…

"I'll never forgive myself," Dad slumped forward, shoulders shaking. "I'll never—I'll never forgive myself, I'll never—I can't—it's unforgivable—I don't expect you to forgive me—"

"Dad," Remus managed to find his voice at last—but it sounded a million miles away, a distant echo of his normal tones. "Dad, please—please don't—"

"I was never brave like you, Remus," Dad continued brokenly. "I should have told you years ago. You deserved the truth—I was a coward. I couldn't bear it, the thought of you hating me—the thought of you knowing that I'm— _I'm_ the one to blame for everything—all of it—" He gasped for breath, raising his head and looking at Remus. "I—I keep having this memory—this image in my head—of holding you in the hospital, the day you were born, and I said—I looked at you, just nine hours old, and I said that…that you were a great wizard in the making. And I was right, Remus—you're ten times the wizard I'll ever be, and I'm sorry—I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

Remus fell to his knees in front of his father. Tears burned his eyes, sealing his throat. A raw, terrible, keening grief was tearing at him from within—he longed not to feel—he wished he could forget, turn it off…

But in one dizzying, paralyzing moment, Remus felt his control give away, and he broke down—and suddenly, his father's arms were around him, clutching him so tightly that it hurt, and Remus allowed himself to cry like he hadn't done since he was a little boy—a little boy whose world had been ripped away from him.

* * *

Author's Note:

:'(

Sorry, everyone. This chapter was a nightmare to write, but it was also incredibly cathartic, and I loved it.

In other news, I'm finally back to updating this story! :D Two interesting facts about this chapter: 1) Katarina Helfer, the Slytherin Prefect that James teases Sirius about, is (in my head canon) Blaise Zabini's eventual mother, hence the detail of her being a favorite of Slughorn. 2) Remus lives in Shell Cottage. I've mentioned in previous chapters that the Lupins live near Tinworth, but this is the first time I'm mentioning that they live in Shell Cottage. This is a head canon of mine that will play a significant role in a later chapter.

Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed this, even if it was super sad. Love you all madly.

Ari


	16. Finally

10 August 1975

Shell Cottage was completely silent.

Lying sprawled across his bed, Remus could hear each _tick_ of the grandfather clock in the sitting room downstairs. As per his latest calculation, it was nearly two o'clock in the morning. Remus swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut. He wished he could sleep. The silence was deafening. His mind was swirling with broken images—his father sobbing on the floor of his study…splintered glass…pointed, yellowing teeth…glittering amber eyes…a blinding flash of white light…

Remus clenched his jaw, giving his head a sharp shake. Then, pulling his covers over his head, he buried his face into his pillow.

By the time Mum had returned to the cottage from the village, laden with an enormous chocolate cake (which had said _'Congratulations, Prefect!'_ in red and gold icing), Remus and Dad had both dried their tears and freshened up. They had helped Mum set the table for dinner, their faces devoid of any indication that they had shared anything more than a cheerful chat in Dad's study. Remus knew that Dad would tell Mum about the conversation eventually—his parents never hid anything from each other—but Remus didn't think he could have sat through dinner if Dad had done it then. He didn't think he could have relived his father's guilt and grief—or watched his mother's face turn white.

He didn't think he could have borne the weight of the conversation—the magnitude of it all—that if only his father had held his tongue, if only Remus had moved his neck at just the right moment…his childhood might have been free of pain, free of worry—Remus might have arrived at Hogwarts an innocent, contented eleven-year-old boy without a dark shadow hanging over his shoulders—

 _Clang_.

Remus stiffened. Lying very still, he held his breath, waiting the space of a few heartbeats—

 _Clang_ , the sound came again.

Remus sat up in bed, staring across the bedroom at his window.

 _Clang_ —a pebble collided with the glass from the outside. Remus closed his eyes, releasing a slow, deep breath through his teeth.

Then, he threw his quilts aside and jumped out of bed, padding stealthily towards the window. Unbolting it as quietly as he could, he wrenched open the glass paneling and poked his head outside—and sure enough, standing in the backyard directly under Remus's window was James, his lopsided grin unmistakable even in the darkness.

" _James_ ," Remus hissed in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

"Come outside," James whispered back. "There's something you need to see. It's important."

Remus gaped down at his friend. "You've got to be joking—I—there is _no_ way—do you know what _time_ it is—?"

"For Merlin's sake, come outside or I'll write Mary Macdonald a love letter and sign it with your name," James said impatiently.

Remus opened and closed his mouth several times, his cheeks flooding with color. Then, with a strangled noise of exasperation, he reached out and shut the window—but not before he heard James's triumphant snort.

Heart pounding, Remus turned and sidled out the door, tiptoeing down the dark corridor, past his parents' bedroom. Then, very quietly, he crept down the stairs, careful to sidestep the creaky floorboards at the foot of the stairwell as he made his way into the kitchen.

"Have you lost your bloody mind?" Remus demanded incredulously, pushing open the kitchen door. James was waiting on the back porch in his dressing gown, arms crossed and grinning broadly. "It's two o'clock—if my parents wake up and realize that I'm out of bed—"

"Yeah, yeah, all right," James rolled his eyes, seizing Remus's elbow and dragging him down Shell Cottage's backyard, towards the white garden fence. "C'mon, hurry up—before _my_ parents realize that _I'm_ out of bed."

"Your parents—what—how did you get here?" Remus spluttered, dashing after James towards the garden gate.

"We flew," James said, waving a hand unconcernedly as he yanked the gate open and ushered Remus through.

"You _flew?_ " Remus exclaimed—and just as he said it, he caught sight of two broomsticks lying atop a nearby bed of sea lavender. "Hang on—who else is—?"

"All right, you can come out now!" James called in the direction of the cliffs, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Remus stared at James, fearful for his friend's sanity. "James, what on Earth—?"

But that was far as he got. At that very moment—with what sounded like the soft pounding of gigantic paws, clearly audible over the waves crashing in the distance—something black, shaggy, and utterly _enormous_ came bounding up the nearby cliffside—and the next thing Remus knew, he was being knocked backward onto the grass and a large, smelly tongue was licking every inch of his face.

Remus cried out in alarm, instinctively lunging for his wand before realizing that he'd left it in his bedroom. Desperate, his ears ringing painfully, Remus scrambled back to his feet and tried to shove the beast away—but the enormous animal was undeterred. With a resounding bark, the great black— _dog_ , Remus realized, his breath catching in his throat—reared onto its hind legs and placed its front paws on Remus's shoulders—and for the first time, Remus caught sight of the animal's pale gray eyes.

A jolt of realization shot through him like electricity.

"S-Sirius?" Remus asked shakily.

The dog gave another loud, fervent bark, leaping back and sprinting in a circle around Remus's knees—almost knocking him back onto the grass in the process. Numb with shock, Remus reached out and seized the nearby garden fence with his trembling hand, watching in disbelief as the giant dog began to race around the rocks, yapping enthusiastically. Remus's brain was struggling to keep up, he was at a loss for words. Breathing heavily, he turned to face James—and his heart stuttered to a stop.

Where James had stood, just moments earlier, was a massive, majestic, shining red stag, its antlers vast and crown-like against the pale sliver of the waxing moon in the sky. Remus fell back against the garden gate, his body limp, his mouth open. The stag was blinking slowly at him through its wide, piercing hazel eyes. Then, with what Remus could have sworn was an amused twitch of its mouth, the animal bowed its head—and Remus's heart seemed to burst from his chest, surging with amazement, and joy, and a warmth so powerful that it left him breathless and shivering in the gentle seaside breeze.

Suddenly, Sirius let out an excited bark, running full tilt at James and colliding with the stag's legs. James gave a low bellow of alarm, skittering unsteadily backwards on his hooves. Sirius wagged his tongue, his eyes gleaming, and James dug his hooves into the ground. Then, the very next instant, the two animals were off, racing one another along the grassy slope, nothing more than a striking blur of red and black against the outline of the Cornwall coast. And Remus was left by the garden gate, watching his friends, laughing so hard that his sides ached—and feeling lighter than he had ever imagined possible.

* * *

18 September 1975

"Well, well, well, if it isn't our precious Prefect Lupin."

Remus stopped short in his tracks in the middle of the seventh floor corridor, glancing up from his Charms essay to find an unwelcome face leering at him.

"What do you want?" he asked tiredly, rubbing his throbbing forehead—his headache, which had arrived at the start of the week, had been mounting steadily in anticipation of the full moon in two days.

Snape sneered, drawing his wand and twitching it in his hand. "You're looking a little…off-color this evening," he drawled. "Would you like me to put you right? A simple spell ought to do the trick."

"Not now, Snape," Remus said coolly, narrowing his eyes at Snape's wand as he stalked past the stringy Slytherin fifth year.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw Snape's wrist slash through the air, and without thinking twice, he flung himself flat onto the floor.

"Hey—!"

" _Legilimens!_ "

A jet of unfamiliar electric blue light from Snape's wand streaked past Remus's shoulder, missing him by inches. Leaping back to his feet and whipping out his own wand, Remus snapped, " _Expelliarmus._ "

Snape's wand ricocheted out of his hand and hit the wall behind him, falling to the flagstone floor with a clatter.

"Detention," Remus said angrily. "Attack me—or anyone else—in the corridor again, and I'll make sure Slughorn takes points."

Snape glowered at him, his sallow cheeks tinged with pink as he bent down to retrieve his wand. Remus didn't spare him a second glance. Sweeping down the corridor towards the Gryffindor common room, Remus massaged his forehead, which was pounding worse than ever.

" _Ad honorem_ ," he muttered to the Fat Lady, and the portrait hole sprung open. Remus clambered inside.

"Remus!"

Remus blinked, looking around. Lily was waving at him from the armchairs by the fireplace, where she was sitting with Mary. Remus hesitated, thinking longingly of the warmth of his four-poster bed upstairs, but then with a soft sigh, he turned and set off in the direction of the fireplace.

"Hi," he greeted them, blushing slightly as he met Mary's bright blue eyes.

"Remus, this is Snuffles," Lily said excitedly, holding up her little black kitten, which had been curled up on her lap moments earlier. "He's my new cat—I was telling you about him in the Prefects' carriage, remember?"

"I remember," Remus said, smiling at the kitten, which was eyeing him in bewilderment. "Er—he's very cute."

Lily grinned, and Mary rolled her eyes.

"Lily's been ambushing everyone with her cat since term started," Mary whispered audibly to Remus, shaking her head. "I wouldn't be surprised if she started bringing him to class."

Remus laughed as Lily swatted Mary's arm—and suddenly, his head gave a dull twinge. He winced, raising a hand to cradle it.

"Are you all right?" Mary asked worriedly, reaching out and gently touching Remus's wrist.

"I'm fine," Remus said quickly, flushing slightly and taking a step back. "I…I'm just feeling a bit under the weather today. I think I'm going to lie down for a bit before dinner."

"Yeah, there's something going around," Mary said sympathetically, patting his hand again. "Snape was ill Tuesday, right, Lily?"

"Hmm?" Lily asked distractedly, and Remus turned to see that she was staring at him intently. "Oh—yes," she jumped, nodding. "Bertram Aubrey from Ravenclaw was ill, too." She paused, smiling warmly at Remus. "You should go get some rest."

Remus gave Lily a grateful smile, waved at Mary without quite meeting her eyes, then turned and headed up the stairs to the boys' dormitories. When he reached the fifth years' door, he heard James and Sirius roaring with laughter on the other side. Heaving a tired sigh, he pushed the door open and found the two black-haired boys doubled over on the rug in the center of the room. Peter, meanwhile, was perched on the foot of his bed, his face flushed and his chin trembling.

"Hey," Remus snapped, stepping inside and closing the door. "What is this? Are you two having a go at him again because he hasn't managed his transformation yet?"

James straightened briefly. "N-no," he choked out between laughs. "He—he d-did—"

"I managed the transformation," Peter explained, his voice unusually high and constricted. "I did it this afternoon."

" _What?_ " Remus gasped, ignoring the jolt of pain through his temples as he swiveled around to face Peter. "Peter—that's brilliant—!"

"I'm a rat," Peter wailed, tears springing to his eyes. "My Animagus form is a rat."

James and Sirius broke into fresh laughter, clutching one another helplessly. Remus had to bite his lip to keep from smiling.

"Knock it off, both of you," he told them as sharply as he could muster—and with what appeared to be an enormous effort, James and Sirius managed to swallow their amusement, chests heaving. Remus turned back to Peter, frowning. "What's wrong with being a rat, Peter?"

Peter sniffed, flinging him an incredulous look. "Are you taking the mickey, too?"

"No," Remus shook his head, walking over to Peter's bed and sitting down beside him. "Rats are incredibly clever and adaptive creatures."

"Yeah, Pete—Moony's right," Sirius panted, still slightly breathless as he climbed to his feet and joined Remus and Peter by the bed. Grinning mischievously, he flung an arm around Peter's neck, ruffling his blond hair. "I mean, think how small you'll be—think of all the places you can get into unnoticed."

"You'll never have to use my Cloak again," James added enthusiastically.

Peter glanced up at him, his expression half-hopeful, half-uncertain. "Really?"

"Really," James agreed, his eyes twinkling. "You'll just have to make sure to avoid Mrs. Norris."

"And McGonagall," Sirius added, smirking.

"McGonagall doesn't eat rats!" Peter cried, his eyes wide with terror. He looked at Remus beseechingly. "She doesn't, does she?"

"Of course she doesn't," Remus said firmly. But then, grinning slightly, he continued, "It's Lily's new cat you have to watch out for. He's a vicious one."

James and Sirius snickered, and Peter's face whitened.

"D'you lot realize what this means?" James asked softly, after a moment. "This Saturday…we're going to do it." He looked at Remus, eyes sparkling. "You'll never be alone on the full moon again, mate."

Remus's throat constricted with emotion. For several minutes, the four of them sat in silence, as the reality of the situation— _two_ years in the making—settled over them like a warm, thick cloak.

Then, Sirius grinned. "Now, we just need to come up with nicknames."


	17. Date

13 December 1975

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Remus mumbled, tugging his Gryffindor scarf straight and grimacing at his reflection in the dormitory's full-length mirror. "This is mad—I can't believe I let this happen."

Sirius snorted, rolling his eyes at Remus in the mirror as he buttoned up his cloak. "Bloody hell, the way you're talking, you'd think we were forcing you to take Peeves to Hogsmeade. It's just Macdonald, mate—you know, the girl you actually fancy."

Remus's stomach lurched. Swallowing, he reached up and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. Then, releasing a slow breath, he straightened his shoulders and studied his reflection in the dormitory mirror again.

It had been a slow change—so slow that Remus hadn't even noticed at first—but now, the change was thrillingly obvious: his face was less scarred than he had ever seen it before. The shadows under his eyes were lighter—practically nonexistent. And his cheeks weren't pale and sunken—no, they actually had _color_ in them.

Remus blinked at his reflection for a moment. Then, unable to resist, he smiled slightly.

The past few months had felt like something out of someone else's life. For the first time in Remus's memory, he felt truly in control of himself—truly in control of his feelings, of his mind. He still didn't remember the full moons, of course, but somehow, the mere knowledge that he hadn't been alone—that his friends had been there with him, protecting him, _accepting_ him—was like a tonic. He no longer woke up the mornings after, broken and exhausted—rather, he felt rejuvenated, exhilarated, alive. He felt…well, _normal_.

"Ready to go, mate?"

Remus jumped, glancing over his shoulder. Sirius was leaning against his bedpost, arms crossed and smirking. James and Peter, who were standing next to him, were grinning, too.

Remus flushed under his friends' gazes, but he nodded quickly. "Yeah…yeah, I'm ready."

"All right, then," James said loftily, waggling his eyebrows. "Let's go."

James led the way out of the dormitory, down the spiral staircase, and into the common room, which was abuzz with excited chatter—it was the final Hogsmeade visit of the term.

"I don't see Mary," James frowned, craning his head to see over the swarming common room.

"She said she'd meet me in the Entrance Hall," Remus explained, his heart racing slightly as he pushed his way towards the portrait hole. James, Sirius, and Peter followed.

They walked down the marble staircase in silence, Remus's legs feeling more and more like jelly with each step. Swallowing heavily, he stumbled down the last few stairs into the Entrance Hall—and then, he saw her: Mary, looking extraordinarily pretty in a vibrant red winter cloak, was standing a few feet away from the oak front doors with Lily, her friendly, dark brown curls loose around her shoulders. Suddenly, she looked around and met Remus's gaze—and her face split into a brilliant, beaming smile.

Remus's heart—and legs—stuttered to a stop.

"C'mon, keep it moving," Sirius hissed in Remus's ear, jabbing Remus's back. "Don't keep your girl waiting."

Remus couldn't think of a clever retort, so he clamped his mouth shut and led his friends across the Entrance Hall, towards Mary and Lily.

"Hi," Mary greeted him breathlessly, her blue eyes shining and her rosy cheeks slightly pinker than usual.

"Hi," Remus replied softly, unable to meet Mary's gaze, which was so radiant that it was rather like looking into a bright light.

"Hi, Remus," Lily beamed at him. "I really wanted this to be a double date, but Bertram wants to stay in and study for that Arithmancy test today."

"Bertram?" James blurted out, perking up at once. "Bertram Aubrey, the Ravenclaw Beater? You—you're not _dating_ him, are you?"

Lily turned around to face him, narrowing her eyes. "So what if I am?" she asked coolly.

James mouthed soundlessly at her, and Lily narrowed her eyes further, lifting her chin. "That's what I thought," she said icily. With a sniff, she turned back to face Mary and Remus. "Have fun, you two." She grinned and winked, before heading off towards the marble staircase.

James watched her go, his mouth hanging open. "She's dating _Aubrey?_ " he demanded finally, his hands curling into fists.

"They've been dating since October," Mary said, raising her eyebrows. "I'm surprised you haven't noticed."

"Well, James spends most of his time with his head up his arse where Evans is concerned," Sirius said dryly, clapping James's shoulder bracingly. "I'd be more surprised if he had noticed, to be honest."

Mary laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. Remus shook his head with amusement.

"What kind of a name is _Bertram_ , anyway?" James muttered mutinously, still glowering in the direction of the marble staircase.

"It's better than Nymphadora," Sirius told him darkly. "I still haven't forgiven Meda for that one. Now, c'mon—let's leave these lovebirds to it and get to Hogsmeade before everything becomes crowded."

James looked around and caught Remus's eye—and he smirked. "Right," he said airily. "Let's get out of here. C'mon, Wormy."

Peter smiled at Remus, before following James and Sirius across the Entrance Hall and out through the front doors, along with a crowd of other Hogsmeade-goers. Remus waited for them disappear. Then, swallowing, he finally looked at Mary. Her face was alight in a warm, expectant smile.

Remus cleared his throat, which had, of course, chosen that very moment to become horribly dry. "Er—shall we?" He nodded towards the doors.

Mary nodded, blushing slightly. "Yes, let's."

Remus pushed open the double doors, allowing Mary to step out into the chilly winter air before following suit. Together, they joined the queue of people waiting to be signed out by Filch. James, Sirius, and Peter were a few ways down the line, and Remus was privately grateful. He was having a difficult time thinking of things to say as it was—he didn't think he could've survived James and Sirius's embarrassing presence.

Within a few minutes, Remus and Mary had reached the front of the line—and with a grunt and the usual look of mingled suspicion and dislike he reserved specifically for Remus and his friends, Filch chivvied Remus and Mary onto the grounds, in the direction the village. Remus took deep breaths, focusing on not tripping over his feet as they crunched across the snowy grass. He glanced sideways at Mary; her faced was slightly flushed from the cold, but she was still smiling.

At last, they reached Hogsmeade. The High Street was overflowing with students, and shop windows were festively decorated for the holidays, garnished with garlands of holly and wreathes of gold. The scents of cinnamon and gingerbread mingled with the sharp wind, filling the air. Remus took it all in blissfully. Hogsmeade always looked like a Christmas card this time of the year. As he and Mary stepped onto the pavement, Remus found himself thinking about how he could never hope to live here. He and his parents had a hard enough time concealing his condition while living in remote areas like the outskirts of Cornwall and the foothills of Yorkshire. To live in a place as populated as Hogsmeade…it would be a fail-safe way to land himself in the Werewolf Registry—the registry his father had once helped create, Remus remembered, with a blow to his chest.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Mary sighed, wrapping her arms around herself and gazing around at the crowded street. "There's nothing like this in Muggle world."

"No, there isn't," Remus agreed softly.

Mary looked at him in surprise. "You—are you Muggle-born, too? I thought Lily and I were the only ones in Gryffindor—"

"No, I'm half-blood," Remus shook his head. "My dad's a wizard—but my mum's a Muggle, so I know quite a bit about the Muggle world, thanks to her. More than any of my friends, anyway."

"How did your mum react when she found out your dad was a wizard?" Mary asked interestedly, as the two of them began walking down the High Street, towards the distant outline of the Three Broomsticks.

"My dad never had to sit down and tell her, actually. She just…always knew," Remus said, smiling slightly. "My parents met when my dad saved my mum from a Boggart."

"Oh, how _romantic_ ," Mary gasped. Then, she blushed pink. "Er—I mean—that's a lovely story."

"Yeah," Remus said, embarrassed. "Er—how about your family? What're they like?"

"Not terribly interesting, really," Mary shrugged. "My parents are greengrocers in London, and I haven't got any siblings. I was homeschooled before I came to Hogwarts. My parents couldn't aff—I mean—" Mary's cheeks grew pinker still. "My parents didn't—like—the local school. They weren't sure about sending me to Hogwarts, either, actually, since it's so far from home, but I managed to convince them in the end. It was…pretty lonely at home." Mary glanced at him, biting her lip. "I must sound pathetic—"

"No," Remus said immediately, stopping in his tracks. Mary turned to face him, and they stared at each other for a moment. Then, Remus took a deep breath. "I…I didn't really have any friends before Hogwarts either," he said in a low voice. "I'm an only child, too…and I spent most of my childhood…moving around."

Mary frowned. "Why?"

Remus swallowed the truth, even though—frighteningly enough—a small part of him wanted to tell Mary everything. "My dad's work," he shrugged, averting his gaze. "He—er—he works for the Department of Magical Creatures at the Ministry, and they—they were always assigning him to new cities—to study new…creatures."

Mary's eyes were wide. "Wow," she breathed. "So you never—you never had a—a home?"

Remus blinked rapidly. "I—I lived in Wales until I was five. That's the longest I've ever lived anywhere, I reckon—well, until now." He glanced at Mary. "Honestly, Hogwarts is the first place I think of when someone says 'home.'"

Mary smiled at him. "Me, too," she said softly. Then, she grinned. "You know, I _thought_ I heard some Welsh in your accent the first time I talked to you."

"It used to be a lot stronger," Remus returned the grin, as they turned simultaneously and began heading back down the High Street. "Nothing compared to my mum, though. She lived in Cardiff almost her entire life—her accent hasn't budged a bit."

Mary laughed, eyes sparkling. "My parents are originally from Scotland," she explained, shaking her head. "You should've seen Lily's face the first time I said 'bairn' instead of 'child.' I've never seen anyone look so surpised in my life."

Remus laughed, feeling his entire body relax. He was amazed at how easy it was to talk to her—it was no more difficult, in fact, than talking to Lily. Chatting and laughing, they ducked and wove their way through the busy lane. Mary slipped her hand into his, linking their fingers together and leaning into his side—and Remus's chest surged with contentment. It was with an unfamiliar, exhilarating confidence that he squeezed her hand, relishing the warmth of her fingers, and the weight of her frame against his.

As they walked by the post office, they passed a group of Slytherins. Remus didn't spare them a second thought, until he felt Mary tense next to him. He glanced at her—her face had paled slightly, but she was staring straight ahead, her jaw tight.

Suddenly— "What's the matter, Macdonald?" Remus heard Mulciber's voice float up from the group, leering and malicious. "Cat got your tongue?"

Remus glared over at the thickset Slytherin fifth year. "Ignore them," he muttered to Mary, even as he felt his own blood begin to boil.

Just then, there was a blaze of orange light, and Mary let out a cry of alarm as she toppled backwards onto the snowy pavement, her arms splayed. Her purse swung off her shoulder and fell to the ground with a clatter, the contents spilling all over the street.

Ignoring the Slytherins' obnoxious laughter, Remus immediately dropped down beside Mary and began to gather her belongings. Glancing up, Remus saw that Mary's body was trembling, her expression frozen. Remus opened his mouth to ask if she was all right, but at that very moment—

"Stupid mudblood."

Dimly, Remus suspected that had he already had his wand in his hand, the damage he might have inflicted on Mulciber would be far worse. Luckily, the split-second it took him to whip his wand out of his cloak allowed him to focus—and with a single twirl of his wrist, he sent Mulciber stumbling backwards nearly ten feet.

"What did you just call her?" Remus roared, blood pounding, ears ringing. His anger was so sudden, so powerful that the group of four Slytherins appeared to be lost for words. Mulciber was struggling to his feet, assisted by Avery. Wilkes was frozen to the spot, his mouth open. But Snape looked the most uncomfortable of all—and Remus knew why. When Lily heard about this, she was going to be furious.

"Which one of you arseholes hexed her?" Remus demanded angrily, pointing his wand from one stunned-looking Slytherin to the next.

No one responded.

"I said, which one of you hexed her?" Remus repeated, slowly this time, his hot rage melting into cold fury.

Avery was the first to regain himself. Hastily, he tried to draw his wand—but Remus disarmed him without hesitation. Apart from Snape, none of the fifth year Slytherins were particular clever with their wands. Avery was too clumsy, Wilkes was too cowardly, and Mulciber…Mulciber was just cruel.

"Remus," Mary said shakily from behind him. "Remus, leave them be. Let's go—they aren't worth it."

The sound of Mary's voice brought Remus back to Earth; his heartrate relaxed slightly as he glanced at her over his shoulder. She had climbed back to her feet, and she looked slightly shaken but otherwise unharmed. Reigning in his anger at last, Remus nodded and lowered his wand, bending down to retrieve Mary's purse for her.

"Yeah, listen to your girlfriend, Lupin," Remus heard Mulciber sneer from behind him. "We all know you haven't got a spine of your own."

Before Remus could so much as turn around, Mary had whipped out her wand. " _Furnunculus!_ " she screamed, and a jet of blinding gold light burst from the end of her wand, hitting Mulciber square in the face. Remus's jaw dropped as the Slytherin's broad face began erupting spectacularly with bright red boils.

"Let's go," Mary told Remus, looking very satisfied with herself. Swinging her purse onto her shoulder with conviction, she seized Remus's wrist and began dragging him down the High Street, away from where Mulciber was now bent double on the snow, surrounded by his lackeys.

"Are you all right?" Remus asked Mary immediately, as they stumbled to a halt outside the Three Broomsticks, a few moments later. He studied her face concernedly. "Mulciber—did he hurt you—?"

"I'm fine, Remus," Mary said reassuringly, placing her hands on his shoulders and gently guiding him into the Three Broomsticks' deserted side alley. "I—I don't know what happened back there. That spell he used—I've never—it was like—like I was paralyzed—I couldn't talk, I couldn't move—" she broke off, swallowing.

"It was Dark Magic," Remus said angrily. "It must have been. Those Slytherins are always practicing the Dark Arts when they think no one's watching."

Mary was quiet for a long moment, staring down at her feet. Then, finally, she looked up and met Remus's gaze, and Remus was stunned to see that she was smiling.

"You called them arseholes," she said, eyes gleaming. "I've never heard you say anything like that before."

Remus felt his face flood with heat. He wondered if next week's full moon was already preying on his emotions. Replaying the confrontation with the Slytherins in his head, Remus realized the intensity of everything he'd said and done.

"I'm sorry," he said embarrassedly, shuffling his feet. "I—I have no idea what came over me."

"Don't apologize," Mary said softly. "I'm not complaining."

Remus stared at her. Suddenly, he was extremely aware of how close she was—her hands were still resting on his shoulders, and her face…her face was only inches away…

"Thank you for standing up for me," Mary whispered, her bright blue eyes shining, lighting up her entire face. "I really appreciate it."

Remus shook his head. "No—it wasn't—don't thank me," he said earnestly. "You were incredible—you could've taken them—"

"Remus," Mary murmured, leaning forward. "Stop talking."

Their first kiss was horribly aimed—Remus was so taken aback by what was happening that he quite forget to move. Their noses bumped, leaving Remus utterly mortified and apologizing profusely.

But the second time…Mary's arms rested so snugly around his neck, and her lips felt so right on his, and Remus lost himself in the normalcy of it all—gently, he drew his arms around her and kissed her—he kissed Mary Macdonald, and she kissed him back, just as soundly.

* * *

Author's Note:

"I'm sorry, but I detest Avery and Mulciber! Mulciber! What do you see in him, Sev, he's creepy! D'you know what he tried to do to Mary Macdonald the other day?" One of my favorite things about writing this story is tying in all the tiny details we get about the Marauders' era in the books. I have a very interesting future planned for Mary Macdonald. In fact, if you paid extra close attention in this chapter, you could probably figure it out already. ;)

ANYWAY...I'm so sorry for the long break between this chapter and the last! I'm back at college now and I'm working about 60 hrs/week on top of that, so my life's been a bit of a whirlwind lately. I hope this chapter made up for it somewhat. Remus really deserves some happiness, don't you think?

Do drop me a line! I've missed you all.

Ari


	18. Moonrise

18 December 1975

Remus liked Professor McGonagall. He did, truly. She was a phenomenal teacher—sharp with her students, certainly, but undeniably fair all the same. She treated Remus no differently than she treated any of his classmates, and for that, Remus was always grateful.

But just this once, he wished she wouldn't.

Professor McGonagall had assigned the class three eight-inch essays on Monday the fifteenth to be turned in on Friday the nineteenth, the last day of classes before the Christmas holidays. It was O.W.L. year, and all of their professors were cracking down, but McGonagall had taken her curriculum to another level. Normally, Remus didn't mind the workload. Unlike James and Sirius—whose deeply ingrained impatience typically prevented them from achieving higher than 'Acceptable' marks on essays—Remus relished writing assignments. It came naturally to him, tracing ink into his thoughts. He loved the process; there was a routineness, a regularity to it that he savored. But this week—and this evening, in particular—Remus just couldn't seem to focus.

He stared down at his Transfiguration spellbook, which was propped open on his lap, where he was sitting under the covers of his four-poster bed. Dark spots appeared before his eyes, blurring the words on the page, and his head spun slightly. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so ill the night of a full moon. His skull felt ten pounds heavier, his skin was raw and itchy—and worst of all was his temper, which was bubbling infuriatingly at the surface.

Swallowing, Remus closed his eyes, thinking of the Hospital Wing's warm linen sheets, where he would wake up in the morning, content and well-rested after an evening spent wandering the Hogwarts grounds with his best friends. He thought inexplicably of Mary—of her warm smile, her dark, dancing curls and bright blue eyes…perhaps he would spend tomorrow afternoon with her, relaxing in their favorite squashy red armchairs by the common room fireplace…

Remus released a slow, deep breath, opening his eyes and looking down at his Transfiguration book again. The passage he was supposed to be reading on the defining characteristics of Animagi seemed slightly clearer how. Slowly, he picked up his quill and dipped it in his inkpot, starting a new paragraph of his essay.

"I'm tired of this," Peter's whining voice cut suddenly through the dormitory air from the other side of the room, where he and Sirius were both sprawled across their respective beds. "McGonagall's gone mad, assigning us all of these essays right before the holidays."

Remus could practically hear Sirius rolling his eyes. "It's O.W.L. year, Wormtail, what did you expect? Besides, they're on the properties of Animagi. Should be pretty easy for you, now, don't you think?"

"They're still essays," Peter grumbled, his voice muffled. There was a small pause. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw Peter's gaze shift to land on him from across the dormitory, and he stiffened. Almost at once, his temper ignited, leaping and crackling like flames in a fireplace. "Moony—"

"No," Remus snapped, clutching his quill tightly as his brain hammered against his skull.

"But—"

" _No_ ," Remus repeated harshly, squeezing his eyes shut.

"But I—"

"No, I will _not_ write your bloody essay for you, Wormtail, so don't bother," Remus growled.

Peter sniffed, falling silent—and immediately, a wave of shame crashed over Remus, making him feel nauseous. He opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could utter a single syllable, a second wave of nausea caught him unawares, and he clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Moony," Remus could barely hear Sirius's placating voice over the pounding in his head. "He didn't mean to—"

But Remus didn't hear another word. Vaulting out of his bedcovers, Remus flew down the dormitory and flung open the door to the bathroom. The next thing he knew, he was hunched over the toilet bowl, retching.

He didn't know how quite long he sat there, slumped on the cold floor of the bathroom, heaving over the toilet. It could have been several long hours—days, even. By the time he managed to find it in himself to drag himself to his feet and trip towards the bathroom door, he felt no stronger than a wisp of smoke. Trembling, Remus pushed open the door and stumbled back into the dormitory. Peter and James—who had seemingly arrived while Remus was in the loo—both looked around at the sound.

"There you are," James said in a tone of relief, stepping forward. "Are you all right?"

"Never better," Remus said in a feeble attempt at sarcasm. Unsteadily, Remus tried to take the last few steps towards his bed, but before he could make it farther than a few inches, James stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

"We're taking you to the Hospital Wing," James said firmly, eyes blazing. "You can't stay holed up in here any longer."

"'S'only nine," Remus mumbled, swaying suddenly—and James had to throw out a hand to steady him. "I haven't—my essays—"

"I don't think McGonagall will mind if you submit them late," Peter interjected, climbing out of bed and reaching for his cloak—and Remus felt a surge of guilt for snapping at him earlier.

Nodding stiffly, Remus swallowed and followed Peter towards the dormitory door. James rummaged through his trunk for a moment, then pulled out his silvery, fluid-like Invisibility Cloak and joined Remus and Peter by the entryway.

At the door, James glanced over his shoulder at Sirius. "Aren't you coming?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Remus looked around at Sirius, surprised to find his friend sitting at the edge of his bed with his nose buried in a copy of the _Evening Prophet_. Remus frowned, trying to decipher the front page headline through the haziness of his brain, but he was only able to make out the first two words of the bold, black lettering: **FIFTEEN MUGGLES**.

"Padfoot?" James asked slowly.

Sirius startled and dropped the _Prophet_ , looking up and blinking rapidly. "Oh—yeah, I'm coming," he said distractedly.

Jumping to his feet, Sirius folded up the newspaper and roughly shoved it under his quilts, before hurrying towards the door, his jaw set in a unusually stiff way that, had Remus been in a fitter state of mind and body, he would surely have confronted his friend about.

* * *

"All right, I'm going inside," Remus said faintly, clutching one of the Hospital Wing's brass doorknob for support as he surveyed his friends seriously. "I'll be at the shack in twenty minutes. Stay under the cloak, don't be seen on the grounds, and make sure that you—"

"Moony, we _know_ ," James groaned, rolling his eyes. He turned and looked at Sirius in exasperation. "Honestly, you'd think this was our first time, the way he's talking."

"It's only your fourth time," Remus said irately, his temper fizzling again. "And as I've said a million times, you're risking your _lives_ by doing this. This doesn't suddenly make you all experts—"

"Moony, shut up and go inside," James said firmly, crossing his arms. "We're not going to let you spend the full moons alone ever again—I thought we'd made that clear in September."

Remus opened and closed his mouth several times, unable to speak. At last, he gave his friends a slightly jerky nod. "Thanks," he whispered.

Then, without meeting any of their eyes, he swung open the door to the Hospital Wing and slipped inside.

Madam Pomfrey was waiting for him by his usual corner bed, holding the pair of raggedy blue pajamas he always wore on the full moon. Reflexively, Remus reached out and took the pajamas from the matron, and she drew the curtains around his bed, allowing him privacy to change.

"Who was outside with you?" Madam Pomfrey asked. "I heard voices."

"James and Sirius and Peter," Remus said, yanking on his rumpled pajama shirt and smoothing it out. "They walked me down."

"Hmm," Madam Pomfrey sniffed disapprovingly. "It's almost curfew—if I go out there and find a Dungbomb outside the door, you can be sure I'll have some choice words for them tomorrow…"

Remus forced a laugh, trying very hard not to imagine what Madam Pomfrey would say if she knew what his friends _actually_ had planned for the night. Pushing the thought away, Remus swung his cloak on and stepped out of the curtains. Madam Pomfrey gave him a small, thin smile and patted his shoulder, leading him towards the doors.

They walked down to the Entrance Hall in familiar, comfortable silence. Madam Pomfrey's company on the journey down to the Whomping Willow every month meant more to Remus than he would ever find the courage to tell her. Remus glanced at the matron's thin face, swallowing. He just wanted this night to be over—as much as he enjoyed his and his friends' monthly escapades, he just wanted to close his eyes and wake up in a body that didn't feel raw and uncomfortable—

"Mr. Snape!"

Remus whirled around, his heart leaping into his throat. With a jolt, he saw the familiarly stringy, sallow outline of his Slytherin classmate, half-hidden in the shadows of the castle's third floor landing, where Remus and Madam Pomfrey currently stood. Snape's dark eyes seemed to glitter slightly in the dim torchlight.

"What on Earth are you doing out and about?" Madam Pomfrey demanded, crossing her arms and glaring at Snape. "Curfew starts in fifteen minutes."

"I'm going to the Owlery," Snape said defensively, pulling an envelope out of his cloak and showing it to the matron. "I need to send a letter."

"It can wait until tomorrow morning," Madam Pomfrey said impatiently. "Go back to your dormitory at once—"

"Curfew doesn't start until ten," Snape protested. "I'll be back in my dorm long before then."

Madam Pomfrey's nostrils swelled and she narrowed her eyes at Snape. But then— "Very well," she snapped. "But if I catch sight of you roaming the corridors once more tonight, Mr. Snape, I will march you straight to Professor Slughorn. Am I clear?"

Snape's expression grew sour, but he nodded.

"Good," Madam Pomfrey said curtly. "Come along, Mr. Lupin."

Remus pressed his lips together, determinedly avoiding Snape's piercing gaze as he turned and followed Madam Pomfrey across the landing.

Suddenly— "Where are you going, Lupin? Don't you have a curfew, too?"

Remus froze, his entire body tensing, Slowly, he glanced at Snape over his shoulder—the Slytherin's eyes were narrowed, his expression leering. Remus's mouth went dry.

"Mr. Snape, this is your final warning," Madam Pomfrey barked. "Move it along."

Snape scowled at her, then threw one last loathsome look at Remus and took off up the staircase, in the direction of the Owlery tower. Exhaling loudly, Madam Pomfrey shook her head and turned on her heel. Remus hurried down the staircase after her, his heart twisting into an uncomfortable knot in his chest.

The December wind was needle-sharp and biting as Remus and Madam Pomfrey stepped out of the Entrance Hall and out onto the castle grounds. Patches of melting snow crunched beneath their feet, and the thick, cold air settled over Remus like a suffocating cloak. The memory of Snape's gleaming black eyes kept burning across his mind.

"All right, Mr. Lupin."

Remus blinked, somewhat startled to find that they had already arrived at the base of the Whomping Willow. Madam Pomfrey had stilled the branches with a wave of her wand, and the opening in the roots was clearly visible, even through the darkness. Numbly, Remus reached up and removed his cloak, handing it over to the matron.

Madam Pomfrey took the cloak, fixing Remus with serious a look. "Stay safe, Mr. Lupin," she said quietly. "I will see you in the morning."

Remus nodded, giving her his best attempt at a smile. "Thanks, Madam Pomfrey."

Turning around, Remus stepped towards the Willow, towards the crevice hidden in the knots of the base. Ten hours, and it would all be over. Ten hours, and he would be back to himself, back to normal. The image of Snape's accusing face cropped up suddenly in Remus's mind, but he shook it away.

With a deep breath, Remus ducked into the base of the Whomping Willow, all at once hidden from the world. The passage to the Shrieking Shack loomed before him, cloaked in blackness.

Remus clenched his jaw, glancing at his watch.

Ten minutes to moonrise.

* * *

Author's Note:

If you've read my story 'Big Days,' you'll probably know what's coming. If you haven't...well, you'll find out next week! Chapter 18 and Chapter 19 go together.

Thank you all so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed it :)

Ari


	19. Betrayed

19 December 1975

The first thing Remus noticed when he awoke in the morning was a sharp, white-hot pain in his left leg. He blinked several times, his eyes adjusting slowly to the sunlight streaming in through the Hospital Wing's large awning window. Then, suddenly, he realized that he was staring directly up at a pair of wide hazel eyes, framed by round glasses.

"Prongs?" Remus muttered, trying to sit up in bed—but the very next moment, his left leg gave an agonizing throb. He gasped in pain and went stock-still, his eyes watering.

"Don't try to move," said a nearby voice in a hushed whisper. "Madam Pomfrey's orders."

Remus looked past James's shoulder and saw Peter crammed into the next chair, his round face markedly whiter than usual. Remus frowned at Peter's terrified expression.

"How are you feeling?" James asked quietly.

"A bit like death warmed over, to be honest," Remus joked gruffly, trying to smile in spite of the bizarre, shooting pains in his leg. Gritting his teeth and clenching his hands into fists, Remus managed to slowly drag himself upright and lean back against his pillows. "What happened last night?" he asked James in a low voice. "Did I—was I…difficult? Why…why does my leg hurt so much?"

James gazed back at him for a moment, his hazel eyes unreadable. Then, he looked away.

"I think you need to hear it from Sirius," James said in a hard voice, staring down at the floor.

A horrible chill filled Remus's chest, stopping his heart. It was with an almighty drop of his stomach that Remus suddenly registered that Sirius was not, in fact, sprawled across his customary spot at the foot of Remus's hospital cot.

"No," Remus croaked, heart pounding as he looked wildly around the Hospital Wing. "N-no—no, I-I hurt him—"

"You didn't hurt _anyone_ ," James said immediately, his voice sharp and his eyes piercing. "You—it wasn't—" James broke off, closing his eyes.

"James," Remus whispered. "What happened last night?"

James clenched his jaw, staring down at the floor—and with another blow to his chest, Remus saw that his friend was trembling slightly. Remus looked beseechingly at Peter, but the round-faced boy shook his head, chin quivering.

"James, please," Remus begged, slightly louder this time. " _Please_ tell me—"

"All right," James interrupted loudly, his expression pained. "All right, I…I'll tell you."

Remus watched, shoulders shaking, as James rose slowly from his chair and walked over to Remus's bedside table, where he began rummaging through the fresh pile of magazines and newspapers that Madam Pomfrey had indubitably laid out for Remus that morning. At last, James withdrew a copy of the previous night's _Evening Prophet_ , his expression grim. Smoothing it out, he placed it on Remus's lap—and Remus's heart plummeted to the ground as he caught sight of the big, bold headline on the front page.

 **FIFTEEN MUGGLES MURDERED IN SOUTH WEST ENGLAND MASSACRE**

"It all started with this," James began.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey relinquished her hold on Remus shortly before lunchtime, waving him away from the Hospital Wing with anxious, bustling reminders about eating well and getting plenty of rest over the Christmas holidays. Remus nodded at the matron without actually hearing a word she was saying. His mind was far, far away from the Hospital Wing—still in the same numb state it had fallen into after James and Peter had left the Hospital Wing for class, three hours earlier.

Aimlessly, Remus limped about the first floor corridor—his left leg was still very sore—for several minutes before he remembered that it was a Friday morning and that he was meant to be in class. Shaking his head, Remus glanced at his watch. It was a quarter to noon, which meant Transfiguration was almost over—there was no point in hurrying up to Gryffindor Tower to grab his schoolbag.

But then, deciding he might as well head up to Gryffindor Tower to complete his three still-unfinished Transfiguration essays—so he could submit them to Professor McGonagall before the end of the day—Remus released a slow, heavy breath and turned around, heading in the direction of the grand staircase—

"Moony."

Remus froze in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat.

Then, very, very slowly, he turned around.

Sirius's characteristically towering, cocky figure looked oddly lost and small across the corridor, his gray eyes darting nervously.

"I—I went to the Hospital Wing, but Madam Pomfrey said you'd already been released," Sirius said, swallowing. "I—er—thought she might be lying at first—she didn't look chuffed to see me, to be honest. I figured Dumbledore had filled her in about—about…last night."

Gray eyes met brown for the first time.

"James already told you, didn't he?" Sirius asked, his voice tight.

Remus didn't answer—his entire body was numb, cold—he couldn't even begin to fathom what to say.

"Remus, it was a mistake," Sirius said fiercely, taking a step towards Remus. "I shouldn't have done it. You know I would never do something like that without a reason."

Remus stiffened, his ears ringing. Surely…surely, Sirius wasn't saying what Remus thought he was saying. Surely, Sirius wasn't… _justifying_ his actions.

"It was that _Prophet_ article," Sirius continued angrily. "Snape—he—he cornered me in the Owlery last night—he told me my _cousin_ was responsible for the death of those fifteen Muggles, Remus. You don't understand—you—you didn't see that stupid smirk on his face—like he _knows_ something I don't—"

Sirius's voice faded quickly to a plunging silence in Remus's ears. And suddenly, in one earth-shattering moment, the gravity of everything that had happened the previous night crashed over Remus, leaving him feeling as though he'd been struck by lightning.

Broken images flitted past one another in Remus's mind…Snape's leering, accusing expression…the Whomping Willow's branches, swinging wildly…and a new image, one that caused every bone in Remus's body to grow cold: James, breathless and white-faced, as he dragged Snape's shaking body down a darkened tunnel, away from the Shrieking Shack.

Away from Remus.

In a split-second, raging anger replaced Remus's numb shock, and his entire body went rigid. Something snapped within Remus, and before he could control himself, he lunged towards Sirius. Sirius jumped violently.

"Moony—!" Sirius gasped, jerking out of Remus's way.

"How could you?" Remus demanded in a strangled whisper.

Sirius's jaw dropped.

"How _could_ you?" Remus demanded again, shaking with anger. "How could you do that to Snape? How could you do that to _me?_ "

Sirius mouthed soundlessly. "I-I—I wasn't think—!" he began.

"And you think that makes it all right?" Remus snarled, drawing himself to his full height—and suddenly, the three inches that Sirius had over Remus seemed utterly insignificant. Sirius was cowering under Remus's gaze. "You think that excuses what you did?"

"No!" Sirius exclaimed. "But—Moony, he insulted me! He talked about my family in front of me, like it's some big joke! I was just trying to get back—!"

"Don't you dare," Remus growled. "Don't you _dare_ suggest that lycanthropy is a justifiable punishment—for _anything_."

Sirius swallowed his words, gazing at Remus in horror. "Moony, that's not what I—"

"Don't call me that right now, Sirius," Remus interrupted sharply, his heart giving a painful twinge. "I can't listen to it right now."

Sirius's eyes widened. It was several, tense moments before he spoke again. "R-Remus—"

"I could have killed him."

The words felt surreal as they left Remus's mouth. It took a long moment for the impact of the words to settle in—they began to echo in Remus's ears. Remus watched as Sirius's entire body seemed to deflate.

"Can you please forgive me?" Sirius asked desperately.

Remus froze, his eyes snapping onto Sirius's. He opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it again immediately. The "no" was at his lips, ready to be spoken—but he couldn't say the word. The desperate glint in Sirius's bright gray eyes was eerily familiar—suddenly, it was three years in the past, and Remus was standing in his dormitory, surrounded by Sirius, James, and Peter. And Sirius was staring at him with the very same expression: fierce, manic, desperate.

 _"I didn't want you to know! You—you weren't supposed to—_ no _one is supposed to know! D'you have_ any _idea what people think of werewolves—?"_

 _"Yeah, I do. My parents hate werewolves—"_

 _"Your parents hate everyone."_

 _"—and they're_ wrong! _It's a stupid prejudice, just like everything else my parents believe in!"_

The memory burned, white-hot, into Remus's brain—of his friends, all of twelve years old, mobilizing in front of him, vowing to stand by him no matter the cost, Sirius at the head. Remus's throat suddenly swelled shut with emotion. Eyes stinging with tears, Remus stared at Sirius—and the answer was out of his mouth before he had even processed what was happening.

"Yes," he whispered.

* * *

Author's Note:

*pokes head out from under massive pile of papers*

I STILL EXIST, I SWEAR. I'M SORRY I'VE BEEN SO AWOL. NO EXCUSES. JUST AN INSANELY BUSY PAST FEW MONTHS. SORRY.

I have a TON of PMs to respond to, and a TON of reviews to reply to, and I promise to get through them all this weekend. I'm so excited to post another chapter, and I promise you'll be seeing more of me very soon. Summer holidays start next month! But until then, enjoy this new chapter.

Oh, here's a special shout-out to the lovely Mel, an anonymous reviewer I always wish I could reply to but can't. Thanks for waiting patiently for this chapter. :')

Ari


	20. Black

27 December 1975

 _Prongs,_

 _I know this isn't my place, but I've been thinking about it nonstop for the past week, and I think you should forgive Padfoot for what he did. Sometimes, I forget how miserable his family makes him, but I just saw page thirteen of that stupid newspaper on my dad's desk this morning, and I remembered._

 _If Snape really was taunting him about them that night, Sirius was probably unhinged when he sent Snape to the Willow. I'm not saying I understand what he did, or approve of it in the slightest, but I've decided I can forgive him._

 _I hope you can too._

 _Moony_

* * *

28 December 1975

 _Prongs,_

 _I know you're ignoring my letters. I didn't mean to offend you when I told you to forgive Padfoot. It was just a suggestion. You know that._

 _Look, the truth of it is that you and Sirius are more than best friends, and you know that too. You're brothers and I think he deserves a second chance. I know you agree._

 _Moony_

* * *

29 December 1975

 _Prongs,_

 _My dad and I ran into your mum at Madam Malkin's today. She was buying men's dress robes. Since when does your mum do your shopping for you?_

 _Merlin, James, I haven't heard from you since the last day of term. Winter holidays end in less than a week. Peter's worried too—he wrote me yesterday. I understand you're still upset with Sirius, but do you have to take it out on us?_

 _Moony_

* * *

30 December 1975

Remus yawned, rubbing his eyes as he stumbled down Shell Cottage's creaky staircase and into the kitchen for breakfast.

"'Morning, sunshine boy," Mum said, giving him a warm smile from where she and Dad were sitting at the cottage's small dining table. "There's eggs and bacon on the stove—help yourself."

"Thanks," Remus mumbled cheerlessly, retrieving his plate from the table and dragging his feet to the stove.

Dad glanced up from his newspaper, his expression amused. "Well, don't you sound chipper this morning," he said in a teasing voice. "Back to school blues already?"

"You could say that," Remus said glumly, forking several slices of bacon and two eggs onto his plate from the skillet.

"Oh, cheer up, love," Mum said encouragingly. "You've got four more days with us—and don't forget about New Year's at the Potters'. Their owl dropped off the invitation this morning."

Remus snapped his head around to look at his mother. "In-invitation?"

"It's on the counter," Dad said, his voice muffled from behind the _Daily Prophet_. "We haven't opened it yet, but we assumed it was the invitation—it's addressed to all three of us."

Remus had already swiveled around and snatched the glossy scarlet envelope up from the kitchen counter. Sure enough, he found his and his parents' names printed on the back in elegant golden script. Heart sinking slightly, Remus set his plate down and tore open the envelope. This was the first indication of James's existence he had received all week, and it wasn't even from James himself.

Since the December of his second year at Hogwarts, Remus had attended the Potters' grand, glorious New Year's Eve party with his parents every year. It was a massive gathering: friends, family, Ministry officials, Quidditch players—what seemed like half of Wizarding England. Last year, Remus had met Minister for Magic Eugenia Jenkins. And the year before that, he'd met Bertie Bott, creator of the infamous Every Flavor Beans. James's parents were incredibly well-connected.

Exhaling under his breath, Remus withdrew the familiar embossed invitation card from the envelope.

 _HELP US TOAST TO THE NEW YEAR!_

 _Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, along with their son James,  
request the pleasure of your company as they ring in 1976._

 _WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 31  
9:00 p.m.  
31 Gilman Lane  
Godric's Hollow  
Somerset_

Remus stared down at the invitation for several moments. Then, numbly, he turned the card over—and he nearly dropped it.

Three words had been handwritten in the bottom left corner of the red card in bright blue ink. And as always, there was no mistaking James's untidy scrawl.

 _R_ _—_ _  
Come by early.  
—J_

* * *

31 December 1975

"I don't understand why you're in such a hurry to go," Mum called down the upstairs corridor after Remus. She was standing in the doorway of her bedroom, fastening a ruby earring, her mouth twisted into a confused frown. "It's barely eight—the party doesn't start until nine!"

Remus paused at the top of the staircase, turning to face his mother. "James asked me to come by early to help set up," Remus explained. "You know how many people the Potters invite every year."

"Remus, you should've mentioned that," Dad said, appearing suddenly at Mum's shoulder. He was wearing half-buttoned dress robes and a single sock on his left foot—Remus had to bite back a laugh. "We would've been happy to come help the Potters set up, too."

"The Potters would never let you help," Remus said quickly, tugging at his necktie. "Mrs. Potter would die before she allowed her guests to help with anything. I don't think she even knows James recruited me—or else she would've killed him by now."

Dad snorted with amusement, shaking his head as he turned and disappeared into the bedroom. "The Floo powder's on the mantel—I bought us a new packet at Diagon Alley yesterday."

"Thanks, Dad," Remus said in a rush, as he flew down the staircase. He glanced at his watch; it was ten past eight. Swallowing, Remus came to an unsteady halt outside the cottage's fireplace and seized a fistful of Floo powder from the little brown sack on the mantelpiece. Hurling it into the flames, Remus stepped into the grate and bellowed, "Potter Manor!"

A moment later, Remus stumbled out of the Potters' fireplace and skidded into their parlor, coughing up a mouthful of ash.

"Oh—Remus, darling!"

Remus swiveled around. Mrs. Potter, sporting robes of a shimmering, midnight blue material, was standing in the parlor doorway, her lined face crinkled in her usual friendly smile.

"You're early," Mrs. Potter exclaimed, hurrying forward and enveloping Remus in a warm hug. Beaming, she pulled back and kissed each of his cheeks once. "No matter, no matter—Hetty!"

With a loud _crack_ , the Potters' house elf appeared out of thin air and gave Mrs. Potter a low bow. "Yes, Mistress?" she squeaked.

"Hetty, I know it's early, but would you please fetch Mr. Lupin here a glass of Butterbeer and plate of whatever _hors d'oeuvres_ have been completed so far?" Mrs. Potter asked the elf kindly.

"Oh—no, Mrs. Potter, please don't go to the trouble—" Remus began at once.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Remus Lupin!" called a booming voice.

Remus looked up. James's uncle Caradoc had just entered the room, carrying a glass of wine. He was grinning broadly, his round cheeks slightly pink as always.

"Good evening, Mr. Dearborn," Remus said politely, smiling. "How are you, sir?"

"Great Merlin, you will always be the politest boy I know," Mr. Dearborn burst out laughing, shaking his head. "It's _Caradoc_ to you, son, as you very well know."

Remus grinned bashfully.

"Come, Remus—come along," Mr. Dearborn clapped Remus's shoulder, leading him towards the parlor doorway. The party was always held in the Potters' banquet chambers, located across the hall. "Believe it or not, punctual as you are, you aren't Fleamont and Fifi's first guest of the night. Damocles Belby arrived about twenty minutes ago. Fleamont is giving him a tour of his potions library."

Remus stopped dead in his tracks, his throat going dry. "Belby?" he asked hoarsely. "You mean—Professor Belby?"

Mr. Dearborn looked at him. "That's right—James _did_ mention that Belby taught at Hogwarts for a year," he said excitedly. "Well, this is excellent! No introductions necessary—you must hear about all of the wonderful projects the young lad is working on. He's an excellent potioneer, Belby is—he makes Fleamont look like quite the amature."

"Oh, _Caradoc_ , as if Remus has any interest at all in listening to three fully-grown men discuss potions all night," Mrs. Potter said, rolling her eyes as she followed Remus and Mr. Dearborn down the corridor. "He's on holiday, for Merlin's sake." Shaking her head, she gave Remus an exasperated smile. "Go on up to James's room, dear. The boys should be changed and ready."

Remus blinked at her. "Boys?" he asked confusedly. "Is Peter here already, too?"

Mrs. Potter frowned. "No, I meant—"

"Moony!"

Remus looked up. James, sharply dressed in dark red dress robes, was standing at the far end of the corridor next to the manor's spiral staircase, his face split into a wide grin. Remus let out a silent breath of relief, setting off towards his best friend.

"Hey," he said.

"I thought I heard your voice," James replied. Then, he looked across the corridor at his mother. "We'll be in my room if you need us, Mum!" he called, seizing Remus's arm and dragging him up the nearby staircase.

"All right, but I expect all three of you down here and ready to greet guests by nine o'clock sharp!" Mrs. Potter called back.

Before Remus could even begin to understand what Mrs. Potter had meant by "three of you," James had dragged him up to the manor's third floor hallway. But then, rather than heading towards the fourth door on the left—his bedroom—James pulled Remus straight towards one of the spare rooms across the hall.

Remus looked at him, bewildered.

"Sirius is in there," James explained in a low voice.

Remus's jaw dropped. " _Sirius_ —?"

"He's in a bad way, no matter how much he pretends otherwise," James continued grimly, ignoring Remus's astonished splutters. "I just wanted to prepare you."

"Prepare me—for what?" Remus asked dumbly. "I don't understand—I thought you weren't speaking to him—"

"Yeah, well, that changed when he showed up at my doorstep four nights ago, frozen solid with a half-packed trunk," James said quietly.

Remus gaped at James. Suddenly, the mystery of James's radio silence, of Mrs. Potter buying men's robes in Diagon Alley—it all became clear.

"He ran away," Remus whispered, eyes wide.

James nodded, his jaw tight. Then, stepping past Remus, he reached out and pushed open the guest bedroom door.

Numbly, Remus followed James inside.

Sirius was seated on the bed in the corner of the room, wearing the same burgundy dress robes Remus had seen Mrs. Potter buying in Diagon Alley. He jumped, looking up as James and Remus entered—and his face turned white.

"Moon—Remus," Sirius gasped. "What're you—you're early."

"Oh, come off it, it's _Moony_ ," James scoffed, elbowing Remus in the ribs and snickering. "He'd probably show up to exams early if he didn't know we'd take the mickey."

Remus threw James a dirty look, but James merely smirked.

"I'm going to go find Hetty and get her to fix us some snacks," James announced, turning around and heading for the door. "Be back in a minute."

Remus watched James disappear down the corridor, his mouth open. He wasn't stupid—he knew full well James could summon his house elf with a simple call of her name. Swallowing, Remus turned and glanced at Sirius. Sirius was staring at him—but he averted his eyes the moment Remus caught his gaze.

There was a heavy pause.

Then, Sirius cleared his throat. "Happy New Year," he said quietly, still not looking at Remus.

"It isn't even nine," Remus said, raising his eyebrows. "A little early for felicitations, don't you think?"

Sirius snorted. "You'll always be an insufferable swot, won't you, Remus?"

"Probably," Remus said lightly. "But one of us has to be, I reckon."

Sirius snorted again, shaking his head. There was another long pause.

Remus swallowed, walking across the bedroom towards Sirius's bed. Slowly, he sat down next to his friend. Sirius stiffened slightly, but he didn't move.

For several minutes, the two of them sat in silence.

Then, at long last, Sirius looked up and met Remus's gaze. His jaw was clenched so tightly that it shook, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"I'm sorry," Sirius whispered hoarsely. "Remus, I'm sorry—"

"I forgive you," Remus said quickly. "I forgave you a week ago. You know that."

"Yeah, but I didn't deserve it," Sirius continued shakily. "I still don't—"

"Shut up," Remus interrupted.

"Remus—"

"It's Moony."

"I—Moony—I'm—"

"It's forgiven," Remus said firmly.

Sirius opened his mouth to argue, but then he blinked quickly and looked away, turning to stare at the wall of the spare bedroom instead.

Remus gazed at his friend's profile for a moment.

Then— "You can cry if you want to," Remus said awkwardly.

Sirius let out a strangled bark of laughter, shaking his head.

"Blacks don't cry," Sirius said derisively, his gray eyes flashing. "My father taught me that when I was four." He paused, his expression unreadable. "That was the day Bellatrix pinched my arm so hard she made it bleed."

Remus ignored the sick feeling in his stomach, as he continued to stare at Sirius. "Well," he said quietly. "Then, I suppose it's a good thing you aren't a Black anymore, don't you?"

Sirius's face went blank.

Then, very slowly, he looked up at Remus—and the very next instant, his expression crumpled, his shoulders sagging.

And just as Remus had done on an abandoned third floor corridor in Hogwarts, three years previous—the day Sirius had discovered that his cousin Andromeda had run away from home—Remus reached out and gripped Sirius's shoulder tightly, allowing his friend to shed the tears he had been raised to hold back.

* * *

Author's Note:

I'm on a roll! God, I've missed you all :')

Here's hoping I can keep the momentum going!

Ari


	21. Lily

13 January 1976

Remus yawned, swinging himself out of his four-poster bed and snatching his cloak up from where it hung on his footboard.

"Where are you going?" James asked from the rug in the center of the dormitory, looking up from the enormous rubble of Zonko's products that he and Sirius were sitting in the midst of. The kit had been a Christmas gift to James and Sirius from James's uncle Caradoc, complete with dungbombs, Filibuster Fireworks, teething teacups, and an assortment of other outrageous artifacts that Remus had been doing his best to ignore over the weeks that had elapsed since the new term had begun.

"Prefect patrols," Remus said simply, pulling on his cloak and quickly checking that his Prefect badge was pinned to his chest.

"Again?" Sirius demanded. "This is ridiculous—that's every day this week. Where on Earth is Evans?"

"She's not back at school yet," Remus shrugged. "McGonagall asked me to take care of her shifts until she comes back."

"Term started more than a week ago," James said, frowning confusedly. "Why isn't she back?"

"Dunno," Remus shrugged again, fastening the last of the buttons on his cloak. "McGonagall didn't say."

"Maybe she's ill," Peter piped up from his bed, where he was nibbling on a Sugar Quill.

"Shut up, Wormtail," James snapped, turning to shoot Peter a dirty look. "She's not ill."

"I didn't mean seriously ill," Peter backtracked at once, cowering under James's glare. "Maybe—maybe she just needed a few extra days to recover—"

"I'm sure she's fine," Remus cut Peter off in an attempt to spare him from James, whose expression had grown steadily stonier. "Whatever it is, she'll be back soon—McGonagall gave me the impression it would only be a few weeks."

"Hey, hang on—I bet Macdonald knows where she is," James said, perking up slightly and looking at Remus. "Why don't you ask her?"

Remus's cheeks flushed, and he averted his gaze from James's as he turned and headed for the dormitory door. The truth was that he hadn't spoken to Mary since the previous term, though he hadn't confided this to any of his friends. Mary had tried to corner him after Transfiguration several times over the past week, but Remus had gone out of his way to avoid her.

"Yeah…yeah, I suppose I could ask her," Remus told James vaguely, pulling open the door. "I'll see you all later," he added, waving and stepping outside.

Remus heard a chorus of goodbyes from his friends as the dormitory door swung shut behind him. Swallowing, he hurried down the staircase, towards the common room.

Remus was on the bottom step when he heard a voice that made his heart leap into his throat.

"Are you sure you don't want to come upstairs?" Mary was saying. "You look exhausted—you should get some rest if you want to go to classes tomorrow."

Remus froze in his tracks. Automatically, without thinking, he climbed back up several steps and pressed himself against the wall of spiral staircase so that he was well-hidden from view. Then, very slowly, he peeked around the banister, into the common room—and he gasped softly.

Mary was standing by the stairs to the girls' dormitories, holding a large mahogany trunk. And standing a few feet away from Mary—arms crossed and face turned towards the fireplace so Remus couldn't see her expression—was Lily.

"I'm not really tired," Lily said quietly, without turning away from the fireplace. "I slept on the train."

Mary bit her lip. "Lily…are you sure—?"

"I'm fine, Mare," Lily said firmly, wrapping her arms more tightly around herself. "I'll be up in a bit, I promise. I just…I just want to sit down here for a little while."

Mary sighed. "All right," she said softly. "I'll see you later, then." She reached out and squeezed Lily's shoulder. Then, she hefted Lily's trunk up, turned around, and began dragging it up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

Remus hastily drew back, pressing his body more firmly against the wall as he heard Mary's footsteps creak up the parallel staircase. He waited until the footsteps had faded completely away before he released a silent breath, slipping down the last couple stairs and into the common room.

"Hi, Remus."

Remus nearly jumped a mile out of his skin as he swiveled around. Lily was still standing by the fireplace, arms crossed, but she was facing him now—and Remus realized, with a blow to his chest, that she had somehow known he was there the entire time.

"Lily," he stammered, clutching a hand to his racing chest. "You—Merlin's pants, you scared me."

Lily barely cracked a smile, and with another jolt to his chest, Remus suddenly realized how pale and thin she looked—even her red hair looked duller and flatter than Remus was used to. He blinked at her for a moment. Then, he quickly looked away when he realized he was staring.

"What are you doing going out after curfew?" Lily asked, quirking an eyebrow. "D'you have a secret girlfriend I don't know about?"

"Hardly," Remus snorted. "I've got rounds to do."

A look of horror crossed Lily's face. "No," she gasped. "Oh— _no_ —have you been doing my rounds?"

Remus shrugged awkwardly. "McGonagall asked me to—"

"Remus, I'm so sorry," Lily said, looking distraught. "Oh, Merlin, I feel awful—"

"Lily, don't," Remus interrupted, embarrassed. "It's not your fault—you've been away."

Lily shook her head. "I'll take care of rounds tonight—you should go upstairs and get some sleep."

" _You_ should get some sleep," Remus said, frowning at her. "You look knackered."

Lily raised her eyebrows. "Could you and Mary be any more alike?" she asked, sounding faintly amused, and Remus's face flooded with heat. He quickly looked away. "Here—why don't we do rounds together?" Lily suggested. "I'm not tired, and you're already down here. We might as well."

Remus glanced at her. He didn't believe for a second that she wasn't tired—the dark purple bags under her eyes were proof enough. But nearly five years of knowing Lily Evans had taught Remus far better than to argue with her. Shrugging, he gestured towards the portrait hole, and Lily smiled, leading the way.

They walked down the seventh floor together in silence for several minutes. Remus glanced sideways at her—the more he looked at her, the more obvious the changes became. Lily's face looked worn, almost sunken—her bright green eyes were missing their usual glimmer of mischief.

"How was your holiday?" Lily asked abruptly, and Remus jumped, looking at her in surprise. Her expression was slightly defensive, guarded—Remus realized she'd caught him staring again.

"Oh—it was all right," Remus said mildly, as the two of them rounded a corner. "It was pretty quiet, which was nice."

Lily snorted. "I'll never understand how you can love quiet but then spend all of your time with Potter and Black."

"They keep life interesting," Remus shrugged, grinning at her. "How was your holiday?"

Lily swallowed, turning to stare at the floor. "I…I've had better," she said quietly. She paused for a long moment. Then, she stopped short in her tracks and faced Remus. "My dad died," she said bluntly.

Remus's stomach plummeted to his feet as he skidded to a halt in his tracks as well, gaping at Lily. Immediately, his mind flashed to the image of a red-haired, friendly-faced, big-bellied man whom Remus had often seen collecting Lily from King's Cross Station—and Remus realized, with an unpleasant jolt, that he hadn't seen Mr. Evans on the platform that past December.

"Lily—" Remus croaked.

"I'm sorry," Lily interrupted in a high-pitched voice, her expression horrified. "I shouldn't have sprung that on you—that wasn't fair. I'm sorry—I-I shouldn't have—"

"Lily—"

"I shouldn't have said anything—it's not your problem. I—I'm sorry—"

"Lily, you—that's not—"

"Just forget I said anything. I—let's just go to the sixth floor—"

"Lily!"

Lily froze midsentence and looked at Remus, her face blank.

"I…Lily, I…I'm so sorry," Remus said hoarsely, his throat swelling shut at the sight of Lily's empty expression.

Lily blinked quickly. "You don't need to apologize," she said hollowly. "It's not your fault."

"I—I know that," Remus said quietly, shaking his head. "But I'm still sorry. You…you don't deserve this. You—you—you're the nicest person I know. You don't deserve this," Remus said again, his voice earnest.

Lily stared at him, her chin trembling. Then, suddenly, she burst into tears, flinging her arms around him.

"Lily…" Remus whispered, feeling quite overwhelmed. Awkwardly, hand trembling, he patted her back. Lily pulled away, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry—I'm sorry, it's the stupidest thing," Lily sobbed. "I just keep remembering the night—the night before it happened—in the hospital…my sister—she—she kept saying—that—what was the point of going to—to a _freak school of magic_ if I couldn't even make my sick dad all right again?"

Remus gazed at Lily in disbelief. "Lily, that's ridiculous—you _couldn't_ —she couldn't have expected you to—"

"Oh, Tuney didn't mean it," Lily said shakily, wiping her eyes. "She's always been like that—she lashes out to protect her own feelings."

"That doesn't excuse—" Remus insisted.

"I know," Lily heaved a tremulous sigh, closing her eyes. "But…but I just keep thinking…what if I _had_ stayed up that night? What if—instead of going to sleep, I…I stayed up and did some research? I could have—I could have found a potion, or some spell—maybe I could have saved him—"

"Lily, you—that's insane," Remus gaped at her. "That—it would have been illegal. You couldn't have—it's not—"

"I'll never know," Lily's voice broke, her eyes filling with fresh tears. "I-I—I'll never know—"

"Lily," Remus whispered, taking a step towards her—but he was afraid to do anything more. He didn't dare hug her the way she had hugged him.

"H-h-he used t-to call me Lily-Jo," Lily continued in a strangled voice, burying her face in her hands. "It was—it was short for Lily Joanne—and I—I-I always hated it—and—and now—now, every time I try to fall asleep—I can h-hear it in m-my head—"

Remus couldn't bear it anymore. Swallowing his fears, he stepped forward and pulled her into a tight embrace. Lily froze in surprise—but then, a moment later, she hugged him back just as tightly, burying her face in his cloak.

It was several long moments before Lily pulled back, sniffing and wiping her nose on her sleeve. Without missing a beat, Remus reached into his pocket and withdrew his faded, old handkerchief, handing it to her. Lily accepted it, shaking her head.

"You must think my family is a mess," Lily mumbled, as she mopped her eyes with the handkerchief.

"I reckon I've heard worse," Remus said quietly, thinking of Sirius.

Lily looked at him for a moment, but she didn't press him further. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.

"Thanks, Remus," she whispered.

"Of course," Remus said at once, smiling slightly.

Lily straightened her shoulders and considered Remus seriously. "Remus, I want you to know that…that if you ever wanted to talk about—anything…if you ever wanted to tell me something, I'm here to listen, no judgment. You know that, right?"

Remus stared at Lily, his body growing numb—there was something significant, something more than just idle compassion in Lily's expression…

"I'm not trying to pressure you or—or anything," Lily continued quickly. "I just—I wanted to tell you that…if you ever wanted to talk—"

"How long have you known?" Remus croaked.

Lily stared at him, her gaze steady. Then— "Since second year," she said quietly. "I noticed the symptoms first—then, the timing of your monthly trips home—and of course Severus kept dropping hints, hoping I'd catch on…"

Remus didn't know what to say—it was surreal: his mind felt like it had hit a wall. Never in his life had he imagined having this conversation.

"Remus, I know what happened with…with Severus—before the holidays," Lily said slowly. "I—er—I heard the rumors about Potter saving him from the Whomping Willow, and I—I put it together."

Remus opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Lily asked.

Remus shook his head. "I…I don't know what to say," he said hoarsely.

Lily frowned at him. "Mary told me you haven't spoken to her since last term. She says you've been ignoring her."

Remus's stomach flipped unpleasantly. Hastily, he averted his eyes from Lily's. "That's not true," he lied feebly.

Lily raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms. "Remus, I saw you jump up several stairs to avoid seeing her," she reminded him. When Remus didn't answer, she softened her voice. "I thought…I thought you liked Mary. She told me your first date went well—and I know you were spending time together before the holidays—"

"It doesn't matter," Remus interrupted quietly.

"Pardon me?"

For the first time, Remus met Lily's gaze. "It doesn't matter," he repeated in a low voice. "My feelings—they don't matter here." Remus swallowed, looking past Lily's shoulder, down the empty seventh floor corridor. "I'm a werewolf, Lily," he said flatly. "The thing with Snape last month—it—it reminded me that…that my future…it's not like yours, or James's, or—or Mary's. It's not fair to her—I can't tie her to a future like mine—"

"Remus," Lily gasped, her eyes wide. "That's ridiculous—"

"I'll talk to Mary. I know I owe her an explanation," Remus continued numbly. "But I…I can't be with her—with anyone—knowing that…that there's no future there."

"But you _can_ have a future," Lily continued earnestly. "You—you don't need to be alone—"

"I know that," Remus said quickly. "I have James, and Sirius, and Peter. I haven't felt alone in years."

Lily stared at him, looking like she wasn't quite ready to drop the subject. But Remus shook his head.

"I have everything I need, Lily," Remus told her. "Most of my life…I never expected to—to have even one best friend, but here I am with three—"

"Four," Lily cut in, her green eyes blazing.

Remus blinked at her. Lily gave him a small smile.

"I may be Mary's friend, but I'm yours, too," she said seriously. "You'll never be alone, Remus—not…not as long as I have something to say about it."

Remus swallowed the lump in his throat. Lily beamed at him, reaching out and squeezing his arm.

Something changed between them, after that night. Remus couldn't put his finger on what it was, exactly, but he felt a new, stronger connection between himself and Lily. Their conversations took on a different tone—there was a new sense of appreciation, a mutual understanding that went beyond anything Remus had ever expected to have with Lily Evans. Remus stopped thinking of her simply as his fellow-Prefect, as the girl who helped him with his Potions homework when he was stuck—or even as Lily, the friendly Gryffindor who smiled at him in the hallways or waved at him from across the Great Hall.

They were friends, both carrying the weight of deeply personal secrets—and doing their best to relieve the other's burden.

* * *

Author's Note:

I'm a firm believer that Remus and Lily had an incredibly strong bond that went beyond James and Lily's relationship :') There was a lot I wanted to convey with this chapter, and I'm not sure I managed to do it all, but I did my best.

Hope y'all enjoyed this! I'm working hard to stay consistent with updates!

Ari


	22. Map

21 February 1976

"Oh, did I mention I found a new passageway out of the castle last week?" James asked, from where he was sprawled lazily across his customary armchair by the common room fireplace. "It's on the fourth floor, behind that huge mirror on the library corridor—"

"Prongs, we found that one together—months ago," Sirius rolled his eyes. "It's in the notebook already, isn't it, Wormy?"

Peter had already pulled his little gray day planner out of his schoolbag and flipped it to the bookmarked page. "Yeah, it's in here," he confirmed, squinting down at his scribbles. "I've got six passages to Hogsmeade written down here—well, seven if you count the Whomping Willow—"

"Which we don't," Remus said firmly. "So, six."

"Oh, come off it, Moony," James snorted. "There's no need to pretend like we don't use that passageway once a month."

But Remus had stopped listening. The portrait hole had just swung open, admitting Lily Evans, Mary Macdonald, and Honora Griffiths. Lily smiled at Remus, giving him a friendly wave as she passed the four armchairs by the fireplace, but Mary determinedly avoided his eyes. Remus saw her jaw clench slightly.

About a month ago, Remus had finally sat down with Mary and told her they couldn't be together. Mary had, understandably, not taken the confrontation well—especially when Remus couldn't exactly explain his reasoning. Their relationship had not improved since.

"I—er—I heard she's seeing someone else now," James said in a low voice, shooting a furtive, uncertain glance in Remus's direction.

"Who?" Peter asked interestedly.

James hesitated. "Some Hufflepuff bloke. I think his name's Cattermole—"

"You mean that nervous wreck of a ginger who took her to Hogsmeade last weekend?" Sirius snorted. "Please, it was one date. It hardly means anything—"

"Either way, it doesn't matter. She's free to date as she likes," Remus interrupted quietly. Sighing, he glanced in the direction of the girls' dormitory staircase, up which Lily, Mary, and Honora had just disappeared, presumably to freshen up before dinner. "I just wish there was some way I could avoid running into her. It's hard enough having to see her in classes—"

"Merlin's pants, what kind of Gryffindor are you?" James laughed, eyes gleaming. "She's a girl, not a dragon. She isn't going to set you on fire, you know."

"That's not—I didn't mean—" Remus spluttered. "It's just—complicated—"

"That's it!" Sirius said suddenly, sitting bolt upright in his armchair and looking as though he'd just been struck by lightning.

James, Remus, and Peter all turned to stare at him.

"Er—what's 'it?'" James asked dubiously.

"A way for Moony to avoid Mary," Sirius said, his eyes alight with mischief. "I've got an idea."

"Oh, please don't tell me you're taking Moony's side on this," James groaned. "He's being ridiculous—"

"This doesn't have anything to do with Mary—not really," Sirius shook his head, leaning forward conspiratorially. "I've been thinking about this for a while, and when Moony mentioned wishing he had a way to avoid her, it clicked."

Remus blinked. "What are you—?"

"A map," Sirius revealed in a hushed, excited voice. "We should make a map of the school—with all of the secret passageways we've found so far—that can tell us the exact location of every single person in the castle at a given time."

Remus gaped at Sirius. "Sirius, that's _impossible_ —"

"No, it isn't," Sirius interjected immediately. "I can draw the map, I'm decent with a quill—and a simple Homonculous Charm ought to take care of tracking locations—"

"A _simple_ Homonculous Charm?" Remus demanded. "Are you mad? That's N.E.W.T.-level magic—"

"And you're the best in our year at Charms," James put in, grinning hugely. "If anyone could figure it out, it's you." James looked at Sirius, practically floating with glee. "This is a brilliant idea, mate—!"

"This is never going to happen," Remus said flatly, leaning back in his armchair and crossing his arms. "You both are mad if you think I can master a Homonculous Charm on my own. And for the record, I'm not the best in our year at Charms—Lily is."

"Yeah, but Flitwick loves you," Peter piped up, his round face flushed with excitement. "I'm sure he'd be willing to step outside the curriculum for you, if you asked."

"Of course he would," James nodded confidently. "Come on, Remus—say you'll help."

"It's not an impossible charm, mate," Sirius persisted. "If a dim, old hag like my mother could do it, you definitely can."

"What on Earth did your mum need a Homonculous Charm for?" James asked, raising his eyebrows at Sirius.

"Haven't I ever told you about the Black family tapestry?" Sirius asked darkly. "It keeps track of every single pure-blood even remotely related to us—I'll bet you anything she blasted my face off the moment I left home…"

Remus leaned back in his seat, his mind racing. _A Homonculous Charm_. It was _impossible_ , ridiculous to even consider…

Remus glanced at Sirius, James, and Peter, who had already put their heads together over a piece of parchment. James was watching, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, as Sirius made broad strokes on the parchment with his quill. Remus wasn't stupid—he knew exactly what James and Sirius would commandeer this map for. Argus Filch was up to his elbows in the Marauders' antics as it was, but this map—it would make them undetectable.

 _But that wasn't the worst thing in the world, was it?_ Remus thought to himself. On a bad day, when all Remus wanted was a quiet place to think in this constantly crowded castle, this map would provide him with exactly that. If by some miracle he _did_ accomplish the Homonculous Charm, this map would be priceless, truly one-of-a-kind—an heirloom of sorts, the type of artifact passed down from one generation to the next…

Remus had a sudden vision of a much older version of himself on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, tucking the map into his young son's hand, while Mary pretended not to notice. Jerking himself out of his reverie, he quickly shook the memory away. There was no point dwelling on a future that didn't exist.

Swallowing, Remus looked at his friends one more time. He couldn't imagine any future child of either James or Sirius as the type to crave peace and quiet.

Perhaps Remus would have to be the voice of reason for the next generation, too.

Smiling slightly to himself, Remus shook his head and leaned forward to listen to his friends' discussion.

* * *

7 March 1976

James let out a low whistle, his eyes growing as round as saucers. "Bloody hell—you weren't kidding when you said you could draw, were you?"

Sirius snorted, though he looked pleased with himself. "It's not quite finished yet, it's just a first draft—"

"It's _brilliant_ ," Remus said in an awed voice, stepping forward to admire the enormous square-shaped parchment that was spread out across Sirius's bed. It truly was Hogwarts, in its entirety, represented in ink—every detail was spot-on, from the castle's complex network of staircases and bathrooms, to the very shape of the Headmaster's seat at the staff table. Blinking rapidly, Remus gaped at Sirius. "Where on Earth did you learn to draw like this, and why is the first we're hearing of it?"

Sirius's smile faded slightly. "All pure-bloods are supposed to be proficient in the fine arts by the time they're eleven," he said stiffly. "At least in my family," he added, with a half-glance at James.

James shrugged. "My mum did put me in a theater class when I was seven, but the instructor begged her to pull me out after the first lesson," he said lightly. "I stuck to Quidditch after that."

Sirius snorted with laughter. Remus gave James an exasperated smile, shaking his head.

"' _Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, purveyors of aids to magical mischief-makers, are proud to present the marauder's map_ ,'" Peter read aloud from his perch on Sirius's footboard, his eyes shining. Then, he frowned. "Hang on—isn't the apostrophe in 'marauder's' supposed to be after the 's?' There are four of us."

"Ah, you make a clever observation, sly Wormtail," Sirius said shrewdly, swinging an arm around Peter's stout neck and ruffling his blond hair. "But believe it or not, that wasn't a mistake." Sirius looked at Remus, eyes twinkling. "Because we are neither the first marauders this castle has seen, nor will we be the last."

An inexplicable thrill of pride chased down Remus's spine. He grinned at Sirius.

* * *

19 March 1976

"Did it work?" James nearly toppled out of his bed with excitement as Remus walked into the dormitory, closely tailed by a weary-looking Sirius, who was carrying the Marauder's Map.

"No, it didn't," said Sirius before Remus could answer. "And don't ask Moony what went wrong, or he'll bite your head off."

Remus glowered at Sirius, opening his mouth to retort—before he realized that he was doing exactly what Sirius had just said he would. Clamping his mouth shut, Remus turned to James. "I won't bite your head off," he said stiffly, pulling back his covers and climbing into his bed.

James looked crestfallen. "So the charm still hasn't worked then?"

Remus shook his head.

"What—what's the problem?" Peter asked timidly from his bed.

Remus released a heavy sigh. "I dunno," he said dully. "I've done everything I'm supposed to—"

"I think you're getting closer," Sirius said, tucking the map into his schoolbag. "Every time you say the incantation, I _feel_ like something's going to happen—"

"But it never does," Remus muttered, burying his head in his pillow.

"Hey," James said, climbing out of his bed and walking over to Remus's. "C'mon, mate, don't be so hard on yourself—like you said, it's N.E.W.T.-level magic."

"Yeah, and I bet even some N.E.W.T. students couldn't manage it," Sirius added encouragingly, walking over to Remus's bed as well, with Peter in tow. "You're a genius when it comes to Charms, mate. I'm sure you can figure it out."

Remus sighed again, though slightly softer this time.

"Maybe…" James hesitated, exchanging a glance with Sirius; Remus frowned. "Maybe you need a little guidance."

"I can't ask Flitwick for any more help," Remus said immediately, sitting up in bed. "There's only so many times you can use the 'I just find this charm so _fascinating_ , Professor' line before it becomes suspicious—even with Flitwick."

"Actually, we weren't talking about Flitwick," Sirius said slowly.

Remus stared at his friend. "Who else—?" And then, it clicked. Remus's jaw dropped. He gaped from James to Sirius, his expression disbelieving. "Oh, you've got to be _joking_."

* * *

22 March 1976

"A Homonculous Charm?" Lily gasped, her face turning white. "Is that—did Flitwick say it would be in the O.W.L.? Merlin's pants, I don't think I have a _single_ note on it—!"

"Lily, relax," Remus almost laughed at the panicked glint in his friend's eyes. Lily was sitting on the hearthrug of the common room, surrounded by at least nine textbooks, as well as several inkpots, rolls of parchment, and boxes of quills—she was the very picture of the perfect O.W.L. student. "This isn't for class," Remus said, kneeling down on the carpet beside Lily. "I was just…wondering if you knew anything about the charm."

Lily frowned. "Not much," she said slowly. "I don't think we'll even learn how to cast it until seventh year. It's the tracking charm, right? The kind they use in official rosters and such?"

"That's the one," Remus nodded, sitting back on his haunches. "I've been trying to figure it out for weeks. No luck."

Lily blinked confusedly. "What on Earth are you trying to master the Homonculous Charm for—?" she broke off abruptly, and her expression hardened. She narrowed her eyes at Remus. "Remus," she said in a low voice. "What are Potter and Black planning?"

Remus swallowed. "Lily—"

"Remus, I'm a _Prefect_ ," Lily said indignantly. "If they're up to something—"

"They aren't," Remus said quickly, feeling an inexplicable prickle of shame—after all, he was a Prefect, too. "It's not—we aren't planning anything. Anything that breaks the rules," he added, after seeing the look of disbelief on Lily's face. She rolled her eyes.

Sniffing with disapproval, Lily picked up her Arithmancy notebook. "Well, whatever it is, I'm sorry, Remus, but I don't think I'd much care to enable it."

Remus's heart sank, but he nodded—he couldn't blame Lily one bit. "I understand," he said honestly, climbing to his feet. "Thanks anyway, Lily."

He turned to head in the direction of the dormitory staircase. But he had only taken a few steps when he heard Lily's voice again.

"Remus, wait."

Remus looked around, frowning.

Lily appeared to teeter on the verge of speech for several moments, before she blurted out, "Why do you do it?"

Remus blinked rapidly, baffled. "Sorry—?"

"Why do you do it?" Lily asked again, lowering her voice. Remus sat back down next to her, feeling quite confused. "Why do you go along with their schemes _knowing_ they'll just land you in trouble?"

Remus opened his mouth to answer, but then he closed it again, considering his answer.

Finally— "There's only so much you can learn in the classroom," Remus said carefully. "Underneath all of their pride and stupid jokes, James and Sirius are…intelligent, and loyal, and sharp. And…" Remus trailed off, looking at Lily. "And honestly, I don't reckon I'd be half the wizard I am if it weren't for them."

* * *

16 April 1976

"I'm sweating. Is anyone else sweating?" James asked frantically. He was pacing back and forth in front of Remus, Sirius, and Peter—all of whom were hunched over the Marauder's Map, which was folded open on the rug in the center of the dormitory.

"Why don't you try sitting in one place?" Sirius suggested dryly, without looking up from the map. He was busy carefully tracing in the one-eyed witch statue on the third floor of the castle with fine dark green ink. "I've generally found that to aid in perspiration prevention."

"You're hilarious," James snapped, curling his hands into fists and glaring at Sirius—but only for a fleeting moment. The next second, he was back to pacing. "Merlin's beard, I think I might be sick…"

"What for?" Remus looked up at James, mildly amused. "You don't even have to do anything."

James whirled around, his expression slightly manic. "Moony, I have to _watch_. D'you have any idea how _nerve-racking_ that is—?"

"Cool it, Sir Melodrama," Sirius quipped, rolling his eyes, and James let out an indignant splutter. Frowning in concentration, Sirius leaned back, surveying the map intently.

"I think it's ready," Peter whispered, his eyes wide and his expression awed.

"I think you're right," Sirius nodded. He looked up at Remus, grinning. "Which means you're up, mate."

"Oh, Merlin, I can't watch," James groaned, covering his face with his hands.

"Prongs, I can do this," Remus quite wanted to laugh at the expression on James's face. "Really, I think I can—I've spent the past month researching the charm with Lily. I think this is it."

James looked half-reassured, half-crazed. "Are you _sure?_ " he asked.

"He solemnly swears," Sirius rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Prongs, if you want to see this map become a map, get your arse over here."

James hesitated for a moment, before sighing and walking over to join the group gathered on the rug.

Remus inhaled deeply, drawing his wand. Holding it tightly in his hand, Remus gazed down at the map of the castle before him, taking it in, honing his mind in on every detail, every crevice, every nook and cranny. Closing his eyes and releasing his breath, he raised his wand and tapped the parchment. " _Homonculo navigatio_."

Remus opened his eyes—and his stomach plummeted to his feet. Nothing had happened. He dropped his wand, feeling ill. He could practically feel James's and Sirius's disappointment filling the air, it was suffocating—

Peter gasped loudly, pointing at the parchment. "Look!" he cried.

Remus nearly stumbled and fell from the shock of it all—sure enough, tiny little black dots were appearing all over the parchment—inside classrooms, on staircases, on the grounds—each labeled with a name in Sirius's instantly recognizable, minuscule handwriting. Remus felt his body grow numb as James and Sirius let out strangled shouts of happiness, slapping a resounding high-five. It was implausible, _unreal_ …and yet…sure enough…there was Professor Dumbledore, pacing his office—and Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout, standing together near the greenhouses—Catherine Deverill and Geoffrey Frobisher, closeted in a broom cupboard on the fifth floor—Severus Snape and Lily Evans, sitting by the Black Lake—Professor Slughorn, chatting with fourth year Ravenclaw Dirk Cresswell in the Charms corridor…

And there, in the fifth year boys' dormitory, was Remus Lupin, along with Sirius Black, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew—just inches below the enormous heading that spanned the top of the parchment, blossoming and crisscrossing in great, curly green letters—

 _Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs  
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers  
are proud to present_  
 **THE MARAUDER'S MAP**

* * *

Author's Note:

The Marauder's Map was truly a group effort XD Seriously, they even got Lily to pitch in! I wonder if James ever told her what that Homonculous Charm was about...

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this! I wanted to give y'all something lighter after the past few chapters.

Much love,  
Ari


	23. McGonagall

20 April 1976

Remus trudged down the first floor corridor towards Professor McGonagall's office, his spirits low. He knew exactly what was in store for him—the other fifth years had been discussing this meeting for weeks, reading through pamphlets and chatting excitedly about what N.E.W.T.-level classes Professor McGonagall might recommend for them.

Remus hadn't partaken in these conversations. He hadn't even looked at any of the pamphlets. It didn't matter—none of this mattered for him, and there was no point fooling himself into believing otherwise.

He arrived outside Professor McGonagall's study at a quarter to four, precisely on time. Raising his hand, he knocked twice.

"Enter," came Professor McGonagall's stern voice from behind the door, and Remus reached out and pushed it open.

Professor McGonagall looked up from her desk, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Ah, good afternoon, Mr. Lupin. Please have a seat. We have much to discuss."

Remus did as he was told, sinking into the chair opposite Professor McGonagall's and swallowing heavily as his eyes fell on the enormous mass of multi-colored pamphlets on her desk. _Why was she wasting her time on him?_ Remus wondered desperately. She might as well dismiss him from her office already—because even if by some unforeseen miracle he graduated from Hogwarts with ten Outstanding O.W.L.s and ten Outstanding N.E.W.T.s, with letters of recommendation from every single one of his teachers, he had no hope of achieving anything Professor McGonagall seemed to think he could.

"Well, Mr. Lupin, this meeting is to discuss any career ideas you might have, and to help you decide which subjects you should continue for your sixth and seventh years," Professor McGonagall said crisply, shuffling the many pamphlets littering her desk into one semi-organized pile. "Have you given any thought to what you might like to pursue after you leave Hogwarts?"

Remus averted his gaze from hers, staring down at his knees. "Er…no, Professor. I…haven't."

Professor McGonagall frowned briefly at him over her square spectacles, but she nodded. "Very well," she said, pulling forward a nearby scroll of parchment and unraveling it. "Looking at your marks, you certainly excel in Defense Against the Dark Arts—and your Transfiguration, Charms, and Arithmancy scores have been steadily high. Your Potions mark, however, has been slightly more volatile—but I'm confident you will perform well enough in your O.W.L. to continue with the class…"

Remus had to repress a snort at this. _Slightly more volatile_ —Potions had always been his weakest subject, and it certainly didn't help that even after five years of teaching Remus, Professor Slughorn was as nervous and jittery around him as he'd been the first time they'd met.

"…Your extracurriculars are admirable—I know you spend a fair amount of time tutoring younger students. And Professor Abscissa tells me the Gobstones Team wouldn't function without you—"

"Professor," Remus interrupted, squirming in his seat, unable to stomach her optimism any longer. "Why are we having this meeting?"

Professor McGonagall's eyes shot up to meet his, her expression one of surprise. She stared at him. "Pardon me?"

Remus swallowed heavily. "You don't have to pretend, Professor," he said in a low voice. "We…we don't have to have this meeting. I know I haven't got any job prospects."

It was the first time Remus had said the words aloud, and they left a bitter taste in his mouth. He hadn't brought up his concerns with anyone else—not with his parents, not with James, nor Sirius, nor Peter, nor Lily. He knew exactly what their reactions would be—James and Sirius would likely beat him over the head for even thinking such things. Lily would give him a sharp look and an equally sharp retort. Peter would be sympathetic and supportive.

None of them would accept the truth of the situation—that Remus's future did not resemble any of theirs in the slightest. James and Sirius were set to become Aurors, as they'd always dreamed. Lily would be the finest Healer St. Mungo's had ever seen. Peter would likely join the Ministry's research committee. And Remus…

Seven years. Professor Dumbledore had promised him seven years of happiness, and he had kept his word. But very soon, Remus would be out in the real world, with the word _'WEREWOLF'_ stamped across his face in bright red ink—and no employer in his right mind was going to look past that—

"Have a biscuit, Lupin," Professor McGonagall's voice cut abruptly into Remus's thoughts. He jumped in his seat, blinking rapidly.

"Have—what?" he asked, staring at her.

"Have a biscuit," she repeated calmly, gesturing towards the tartan tin of Ginger Newts she had propped open on the edge of her desk.

Remus stared down at the biscuits for a moment, then back up at Professor McGonagall, utterly flummoxed. Finally, very slowly, he reached out and took a Newt.

Professor McGonagall watched him closely for several moments. Then, suddenly, pushing the pile of pamphlets on her desk aside, she leaned across her desk towards Remus.

"I think it might interest you to know, Mr. Lupin," Professor McGonagall said quietly, "that since your very first year at Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore has been in contact with a few highly trustworthy employers both in and out of the Ministry. And they have told him that as long as you continue to keep your marks high, and the headmaster vouches for you, they won't have a problem hiring you."

Remus's breath caught in his chest. He gawked at Professor McGonagall, his jaw slack.

"You are a talented, young wizard, Mr. Lupin," Professor McGonagall continued seriously. "Your talents are too valuable not to be taken seriously. If I may speak plainly, Remus, I think you would make a wonderful addition to the Hogwarts staff someday."

Remus's mouth was so dry it felt like parchment. Surely Professor McGonagall wasn't saying what he thought she was saying. _How had she known?_ How had she known that, deep inside Remus's head, some tiny part of his brain had always believed he would make a good teacher?

"Now, I must clarify that Professor Dumbledore isn't in the practice of hiring eighteen-year-olds to his staff," Professor McGonagall said, looking pointedly at Remus over her square spectacles. "So, you will have to wait a few years after you leave school to apply—involve yourself in something else in the meantime, perhaps an apprenticeship, or a Ministry position. But I am confident that you would make an excellent professor, especially in Defense Against the Dark Arts—a position we are always struggling to fill."

Remus could only gape at her. There was a finality, a conviction in Professor McGonagall's tone that left him little room for argument. Her green eyes were razor sharp behind her spectacles. Remus stammered, "Professor…the parents—they would never let their kids learn from—"

"There is certain information that only trusted members of the staff are privileged to know," Professor McGonagall continued, as though Remus hadn't spoken. "Serious medical conditions of students or professors fall under this category. I have no doubt that Professor Dumbledore would personally take care of any necessary accommodations."

Remus was truly at a loss for words, now. His brain was struggling to keep up with his heart. Professor McGonagall had just handed him his wildest dreams on a silver platter.

"Well, I'm afraid this must conclude our meeting," Professor McGonagall said, glancing at the clock on the wall behind Remus's head. "I believe it is time for Miss Deverill's appointment."

Remus nodded, clambering hastily to his feet, which felt rather like jelly. Making a concentrated effort to put one foot in front of the other, Remus somehow managed to reach the door of Professor McGonagall's study without stumbling. He had his hand around the doorknob when Professor McGonagall spoke again.

"Oh, Mr. Lupin, one last thing."

Remus turned around. The barest hint of a smile was playing at Professor McGonagall's lips.

"I understand that it may be difficult for you to believe, but I want to assure you that there are still good people in this world," she said.

Remus's throat swelled shut with emotion; it was several moments before he found it in himself to unstick his voice.

"Thanks, Professor."

"My pleasure, Mr. Lupin."

* * *

Author's Note:

Chapter notifications have been a nightmare lately! I don't know if you all got the notification for the previous chapter, but if you didn't, I do hope you go back and take a look. It's a fun one. :)

Anywho, extra chapter this week because I have my last final exam this evening, and then it's finally SUMMER! Yay!

Hugs,  
Ari


	24. Responsibility

18 June 1976

"Not once," Professor McGonagall said fiercely, her green eyes glinting dangerously behind her square spectacles, "in my nearly _twenty_ years as a Hogwarts professor, have I been so _utterly_ disappointed in a group of my students."

Remus flinched, closing his eyes. Peter, who was standing to Remus's left, shrank back under McGonagall's beady gaze, looking cowed. But Sirius and James, who stood to Remus's right, didn't bat an eyelid. And Snape—who was next to James—simply looked mutinous. A little dribble of pink foam was still clinging to the corner of his mouth, from the incident by the Black Lake an hour earlier.

"Potter and Black, one week's detention and fifty points from Gryffindor—each," Professor McGonagall continued, glaring at James and Sirius. Sirius made an incredulous noise in the back of his throat, and Professor McGonagall snapped her gaze onto him. "Is there a problem, Mr. Black?"

Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but James elbowed him in the ribs, his expression stony. Sirius closed his mouth. "No, Professor," he said stiffly.

"A wise assessment," Professor McGonagall told Sirius coldly. "Now, I believe the four of you owe Mr. Snape an apology."

Remus glanced sideways at his friends before muttering, "Sorry, Severus." Peter followed suit, bowing his head in shame. Sirius rolled his eyes hugely, but grumbled a halfhearted apology nonetheless. Professor McGonagall turned expectantly to James. Remus glanced at him, too—and his heart stuttered to a stop. James was looking at Snape with a mixture of revulsion and anger that looked strikingly out-of-place and, quite frankly, rather terrifying on his normally easygoing features.

"Mr. Potter. Apologize, please."

Remus glanced up. It wasn't Professor McGonagall who had spoken, but Professor Dumbledore, who was standing a few feet behind Professor McGonagall's desk. Although he had been present for the entirety of the meeting, this was the first time he had spoken.

James looked around and caught Professor Dumbledore's gaze, swallowing. Then, jaw clenched, James gave Snape a curt nod. "Sorry," he said harshly, without looking at him.

Professor McGonagall leaned back in her chair. "The four of you are dismissed," she snapped, waving her hand in the Marauders' general direction. "Mr. Snape, you stay."

Remus carefully avoided looking at both Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore as he shuffled to the door after his friends. But then—

"Mr. Lupin, would you mind staying behind as well? Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, and Mr. Pettigrew, you may continue on your way."

Remus froze in his tracks, turning around. Professor Dumbledore was looking at him with an unreadable expression. Remus blinked. Then, nodding numbly, Remus walked back over to Professor McGonagall's desk. The deputy headmistress seemed puzzled by Professor Dumbledore's request, but she nodded.

"You heard the headmaster—move it along, you three," Professor McGonagall said sharply to James, Sirius, and Peter. Remus looked over his shoulder to see his friends lingering by the office door.

Swallowing his own fears, Remus nodded at them. "I'll see you later," he said quietly.

James and Sirius exchanged a look, before they finally filed out of the office, Peter in tow. The door swung shut behind them with a soft _click_.

Professor McGonagall turned to Snape, her expression cold again. "Miss Macdonald, Miss Griffiths, Miss Deverill, and Miss Wickersham all came by my office to tell me that they heard you call Miss Evans by an incredibly rude name this afternoon. Is this true, Mr. Snape?"

Remus looked at Snape and saw the Slytherin's face flush red. "They heard wrong," Snape spat.

Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes at Snape, but Professor Dumbledore spoke first, his voice uncharacteristically chilly.

"As it so happens, we have another witness present," Professor Dumbledore said, his piercing blue eyes boring into Snape's; Remus saw Snape twitch. Professor Dumbledore looked at Remus. "Mr. Lupin, you were at the lake this afternoon. Did you hear Mr. Snape call Miss Evans by a vulgar slur that I do not wish to repeat?"

Remus glanced sideways at Snape—the Slytherin's normally pale face was practically maroon with anger and indignation. Feeling a surge of hatred towards Snape, Remus nodded at Professor Dumbledore.

"Very well," Professor Dumbledore said, and although his voice was quiet, it seemed to fill the entire room, sweeping over Remus like a cold gust of wind—Remus didn't blame Snape for trembling slightly. "Mr. Snape, you will serve one week's detention, as well."

Snape gasped, looking at Professor Dumbledore in horror. "Professor, that—that isn't fair—!"

"Believe me, Mr. Snape, it is completely fair—and I am sure Professor Slughorn would agree," Professor McGonagall interrupted severely. "Slurs of any kind are not tolerated at this school. And I would think that given the degree of friendship I've witnessed between you and Miss Evans all these years, you would exhibit a little more _remorse_."

For the first time, Remus saw some of Snape's anger melt away—he looked worried.

"You may leave, now, Mr. Snape," Professor McGonagall said irately. "I will have Professor Slughorn provide you the details of your detention tomorrow."

Snape sniffed furiously, snatching his schoolbag up from the floor and slouching out of the office.

Professor McGonagall put her elbows on her desk and cradled her head in her hands, releasing a slow breath through her teeth. "I've had it with his attitude," she muttered crossly. "If it were up to me, Albus, I might have taken points—"

"Mr. Snape has yet to receive the worst of his punishment," Professor Dumbledore said solemnly. "Miss Evans is sure to provide him with perspective beyond the scope of anything a few house points or detentions could."

Remus shifted his feet uncomfortably, feeling as though he were intruding on a private moment. Professor McGonagall started, looking at him as though she'd just remembered he was there.

"Oh—Mr. Lupin—"

"Ah, yes," Professor Dumbledore said seriously, turning to Remus. "Professor McGonagall, would you mind giving Mr. Lupin and myself a moment alone to chat? We won't be long."

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows at Professor Dumbledore, looking taken aback. Nonetheless, she nodded slowly, climbing to her feet and sweeping out of her office.

Remus watched her leave. Then, swallowing heavily, he looked at Professor Dumbledore.

"You are not in any trouble, Mr. Lupin," Professor Dumbledore told him gently. "Do not worry."

Remus watched, heart racing, as Professor Dumbledore walked slowly across Professor McGonagall's office and came to a stop by the large portrait of Godric Gryffindor that spanned the room's left wall.

"I'm going to ask you a question, Mr. Lupin," Professor Dumbledore said softly, turning to face Remus. "And I hope that you will answer honestly."

Remus's heart was pounding against his ribcage, now.

"As a prefect," Professor Dumbledore said quietly, "did you feel there was nothing more you could have done to dissuade your friends from the behavior they engaged in today?"

Remus's heart plummeted to his feet like a stone. Averting his gaze from the headmaster's and staring down at his knees instead, Remus whispered, "No, Professor. I-I—I could have done more."

Professor Dumbledore nodded slowly, his expression grave.

"I see," he said, considering Remus closely over his half-moon spectacles. "Remus, I hope you don't think I underestimate the difficulty of being both a good friend and a good prefect. It is an enormous responsibility, and one I entrusted to you because I believe you capable."

Remus swallowed heavily. "Yes, sir."

"In asking you to stand up to your friends, I am asking you to do something that…many wizards older and more accomplished than you would be incapable of," Professor Dumbledore said softly. "But I have faith in your judgment, Mr. Lupin. If they really are your friends—which I've no doubt they are—then they will respect your perspective."

* * *

It was nearly dinnertime when Remus left Professor McGonagall's office, feeling thoroughly disappointed in himself. Professor Dumbledore's words rung dizzyingly in Remus's ears as he dragged his feet down the seventh floor corridor, in the direction of the Gryffindor common room.

He was just around the corner when he heard familiar voices.

"She doesn't want to talk to you!"

"I don't care! I'm not leaving until I see her—!"

"You'll be waiting forever, Snape!"

"Well, I've got all night, haven't I? I'll—I'll sleep out here if I have to!"

Remus turned the corner, towards the portrait hole. Then, he stopped in his tracks.

Snape and Mary were standing a few feet apart in front of the Fat Lady, hands curled into fists and expressions equally mutinous as they glowered at one another. They both swiveled around when they caught sight of Remus. Snape's expression turned nasty. But Mary's eyes filled with tears.

Swiping at her eyes with her sleeves, Mary turned and ducked back into the portrait hole, which swung shut behind her. Now feeling worse than ever, Remus walked up to the portrait hole himself. " _Wiggentree_ ," he told the Fat Lady, and she swung open again, revealing the Gryffindor common room. He was just about to step inside, when—

"What?" Snape spat from behind Remus. "Aren't you going to have a go at me, Lupin? Tell me off for my foul mouth, like your hypocrite friends?"

Remus stiffened. Then, eyes flashing, he turned and faced Snape.

"I prefer to save my telling-offs for people I actually give a damn about," he said through clenched teeth.

And without waiting for a response, Remus stepped into the Gryffindor common room, letting the door slam shut behind him.

"I'm _sorry_ , Evans—!"

"I don't want to hear it, Potter!"

Remus came to a standstill by his and his friends' customary cluster of armchairs by the common room fireplace, where Sirius and Peter were already seated, watching the spectacle by the girls' dormitory staircase: Lily was standing several steps up, arms crossed as she glared down at James, who stood at the foot of the stairwell.

"You know, Evans, you're lucky I'm actually apologizing instead of just saying 'I told you so!'"

The entire common room went silent. Lily's expression turned to ice. Remus gaped at James in disbelief.

"What did you just say?" Lily asked in a dangerous voice.

James was seemingly undeterred by Lily's tone. "Everyone saw this coming," he said harshly. "In fact, I'll bet that deep down, you did, too. This can't have been a surprise, really."

Lily was shaking with anger. In a flash, she flew down the stairs and seized the collar of James's robes, her expression positively livid.

"You are an arrogant, immature _pig_ , James Potter," she spat. "And if you so much as _look_ in my direction ever again, I swear I will hex you to another universe."

Releasing James, Lily turned and stormed up the girls' dormitory staircase. James watched her disappear, slightly openmouthed. Then, slowly, he turned around and walked over to where his friends were sitting by the fireplace. Gradually, the buzz of conversation in the common room flickered to life once again.

"That was rough, mate," Sirius said quietly, as James sank into the armchair next to his.

James shrugged unconcernedly, though Remus didn't miss the glimmer of annoyance in his eyes. "I can't force her to see the truth," James said coolly. "It's not like I forced Snivellus to say what he did."

Remus frowned at James, opening his mouth to say something—but then, he closed it.

"Maybe you're better off with someone else," Sirius said, glancing in the direction of the girls' dormitories. "This thing with Evans…it seems like a lot more effort than it's worth."

James didn't respond. Remus stared at his friend, his heart hammering.

 _"If they really are your friends—which I've no doubt they are—then they will respect your perspective."_

"Prongs," Remus said abruptly. "I think…what you did today—it was wrong."

* * *

Author's Note:

"Did I ever tell you to lay off Snape? Did I ever have the guts to tell you I thought you were out of order?"  
"Yeah, well, you made us feel ashamed of ourselves sometimes…that was something…"  
-Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, circa OotP

Standing up to his friends was always an ordeal for Remus, simply because of how afraid he was of losing them, but I think it was often necessary. Particularly after this episode, when James needed some sense knocked into him.

I think you'll all appreciate the next chapter! ;)

Hugs,  
Ari


	25. Quidditch

13 November 1976

"Potter! Great match today!"

"You were _incredible_ , James!"

"Thanks for slaughtering those filthy snakes, Potter!"

Remus shook his head in amusement as he followed James, Sirius, and Peter into the castle from the Quidditch pitch. James was basking in the glow of his admirers, with Sirius's arm slug around his shoulders and Peter clucking sycophantically in their wake. It was such a familiar scene, but one that Remus never quite tired of seeing.

"Hey—Remus!"

Remus paused in his tracks, looking over his shoulder. Lily was hurrying through the oak front doors, her long red hair windswept and her cheeks pink from the wind. Remus waited for her to reach him, and the two of them began making their way towards the marble staircase together, a little ways behind James, Sirius, Peter, and the rest.

"He's enjoying himself, isn't he?" Lily rolled her eyes scathingly at James, who was now barely visible over the entourage of Gryffindors escorting him up to the seventh floor.

"Yeah, normally we'd take the mickey, but we like to let him have his Quidditch victories," Remus said, smirking as, suddenly, James was lifted onto the shoulders of several rowdy seventh year Gryffindors.

Lily snorted, but didn't say anything further. For several minutes, she and Remus walked up the stairs in comfortable silence.

Then— "Hey, Remus," Lily said casually. "The Slytherin Seeker—that's Black's younger brother, isn't it?"

Remus looked at Lily in surprise. "Er—yeah, it is," he said slowly. "Why—?"

"No reason," Lily said quickly. "I just…I never really noticed him before, but I think he and Sev—Snape are friends, now, or something." She paused for a moment, staring straight ahead, her expression inscrutable. Then, she gave her head a little shake, turning back to face Remus. "Black and his brother look rather alike, don't they?"

"Best not let Sirius catch you saying that," Remus said lightly.

Lily raised her eyebrows. "They don't get along?"

Remus snorted. "You'd be hard-pressed to find family members Sirius _does_ get along with, Lily."

Lily glanced at the procession of Gryffindors that was now a flight of stairs above Remus and herself. Sirius was busy leading an enthusiastic chorus of the Gryffindor Rally Cry.

"I heard he was disowned," Lily said quietly.

Remus shot her a sideways frown. "Where did you hear that?"

Lily looked embarrassed. "Nowhere. It…it was just a stupid rumor going around last year."

Remus didn't need to hear more. Lily was no gossip, but at the end of the day, she did share a dormitory with Cat Deverill and Maggie Wickersham, two of the biggest scandalmongers in the sixth year.

"Lily…Sirius's family—they aren't…normal witches and wizards," Remus told Lily in a low voice. "They…they're sort of…well, blood purists." Lily's expression hardened with comprehension. "And about a year ago, Sirius decided he'd had enough."

Lily blinked, several times. "So, he just—up and left? Where did he go?"

Remus smiled. "James's house. James's parents took him in."

Lily stared at Remus. "What?"

"Yeah, the Potters let him kip at their place," Remus shrugged. "I think Sirius is planning on moving out next summer, now he's of age. Mind you, he's going to have to fight Mrs. Potter on it—I reckon she's gotten a little used to having two sons."

Lily looked stunned. "Potter just took him in? No questions?"

"Well, James already knew the sort of people Sirius's parents are," Remus said quietly. Then, he gave Lily a wry smile. "But come off it, Lily, is that really so hard to believe? When has James ever been the type to ask questions?"

Lily didn't answer. They had reached the portrait hole.

"P-password?" hiccupped the Fat Lady. Remus noted the bottle of wine dangling from her left hand—clearly, she had decided to join the Quidditch festivities.

" _Carpe diem_ ," Lily said, shooting an exasperated look at Remus.

"Absolutely, miss," the Fat Lady slurred, swinging open, and Remus and Lily clambered inside.

"Moony! Over here!"

Remus looked around—and he burst out laughing. James was sitting atop an enormous throne made up of about twenty different maroon sofa cushions from various parts of the Gryffindor common room. Grinning, Remus walked over to join his friend. To his surprise, Lily followed.

The moment James saw Lily, he sat bolt upright in his makeshift throne, his eyes widening slightly. "All right, Evans?" he asked warily.

"Potter," Lily said coolly. She considered him appraisingly for a moment. Then— "Congratulations on the match today. You flew well."

James's mouth fell open. He gaped unabashedly at her; Remus had to bit his lip to restrain his laughter.

"I think he's saying 'thank you,'" Sirius informed Lily, smirking at James. "I can't be sure though. I don't speak lovesick fool."

Lily threw Sirius a withering look. Shaking her head, she turned on her heel and left to join her friends by the fireplace. James watched her go, his expression dazed.

Remus clapped his shoulder, grinning. "You owe me for that one, mate."

* * *

12 February 1977

For the third time in the past several minutes, James let out a loud, dramatic howl of pain, doubling over in the middle of the first floor corridor and clutching his left shoulder.

Remus came to a stop in the corridor, as well, and released an exasperated sigh.

"For the love of Merlin, Prongs, if you don't get your arse to the Hospital Wing _right now_ , we won't have time to go down to the kitchens and get food for the party," Sirius said impatiently, seizing James by the scruff of his Quidditch robes and attempting to drag him down the corridor.

James cried out in pain, jerking away from Sirius. Then, he sank to the floor and closed his eyes, his breathing shallow. "It's too far…" he panted. "Just go on…without me…"

Remus rolled his eyes. "Prongs, you're the reason we've got to go anywhere at all. Come on, up you get. The Hospital Wing is just at the end of the corridor."

James let out a whimper.

"You're such a baby," Sirius barked, reaching out and yanking James to his feet by his collar. "Moony's looked twice as bad as you before, and we never heard him complain this much."

"Well, Moony's a bloody saint, isn't he?" James said through gritted teeth, as Sirius began marching him roughly down the hall.

"I don't understand how you managed to keep playing with your shoulder like that," Peter said in an awed voice, as he trotted alongside James and Sirius, gaping at the odd angle from which James's left arm was swinging.

James shot Peter a half-incredulous, half-haughty look.

"I'm team _captain_ , Wormy, and we were down forty points," James said in a voice filled with bravado. "It's not worth taking a Bludger to the shoulder unless we _win_."

"If only you applied yourself so much to your schoolwork," Remus muttered. James ignored him.

The four of them managed to make it halfway down the corridor before James's legs buckled again. With a loud, drawn-out groan, James dropped to his knees, his face glistening under a pearly sheen of sweat. "This is the end," James gasped, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his robes. "I see the light. At least I'll die knowing it was for a good cause." Breathing heavily, James looked at Remus. "Moony, my dear friend, give the team my love…tell King he's captain, now…and tell Shacklebolt he can move up from the reserves…he's ready…I've taught him everything I know…"

"You know, I've no idea why that theater instructor you had as a kid thought you were a lost cause," Remus marveled, shaking his head at James. "You're a natural."

"Hey! Potter!"

Remus turned to see the willowy outline of Lily Evans appear at the far end of the corridor. As she hurried towards them, her long red hair dancing behind her, James leaped to his feet so quickly that Remus heard his knees crack. Sirius snorted loudly.

"Hey, Potter, are you all right?" Lily asked James breathlessly, as she reached the Marauders. "It looked like Bertram nailed you pretty hard out there."

"Please, Evans," James scoffed, puffing out his chest. "It's going to take more than a measly Bludger from your ex-boyfriend to bring me to my knees."

Remus caught Sirius's eye and had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the incredulous expression on his friend's face.

Lily's eyes fell on James's dislocated shoulder, and she winced. "God, Potter, that looks awful. It must hurt terribly."

"What, this?" James asked, gesturing towards his shoulder. "This is just a scratch. I hardly feel it anymore."

Without missing a beat, Sirius reached out and lightly flicked James's shoulder. James jerked backwards and let out a loud cry of pain, tears springing to his eyes.

"You might want to take a step back, Evans," Sirius said in a tone of great seriousness. "We wouldn't want you to faint from that raw, rugged show of masculinity."

Lily ignored Sirius, but Remus was fairly certain he saw her lips twitch. Deciding to take pity on James, whose face was now nearly as red as his Quidditch uniform, Remus cleared his throat.

"Lily," Remus addressed his friend, smiling politely. "Would you mind escorting James to the Hospital Wing? Sirius, Peter, and I really need to be heading down to the kitchens if we want to get food and drinks to the common room in time for the party."

Lily's eyebrows shot up her forehead. "What? Remus, I don't think—"

"Oh, Evans, you're a peach," Sirius interrupted, smirking hugely. "Thank you so much for helping out." Slinging a hand around Peter's neck, Sirius blew James a kiss, before heading in the direction of the nearby staircase.

"Give Madam Pomfrey our best," Remus told Lily brightly. And with that, he turned and hurried after Sirius and Peter, leaving a dumbstruck Lily and a red-faced James alone in the middle of the corridor.

* * *

14 May 1977

"What's the score now?" Sirius asked, leaning over the balcony of the stands and squinting up at the sky.

Remus craned his head in the direction of the professors' stands, where the commentator's podium and scoreboard were. "One-sixty to one-seventy—Hufflepuff's leading."

Sirius swore under his breath.

In his six years as a Hogwarts student, Remus had never attended a Quidditch final quite like this one. Fouls and penalties were being called left and right. Both Gryffindor Beaters were sporting half-healed broken noses. The Hufflepuff Keeper's left arm was in a sling. And worst of all, Lewis King, the Gryffindor team's star Seeker, had been taken in halfway through the match after a nasty Bludger to the back of his neck—the sickening _crunch_ had echoed through the Quidditch pitch.

After a short, tense timeout, the Gryffindor team had returned to the game despite the loss of the key player. James had replaced himself with second year reserve Chaser Kingsley Shacklebolt. Then, the crowd had watched James put on King's Seeker gloves and fly out onto the pitch to play the position himself, his jaw clenched and his expression determined.

James was easily the most versatile member of the Gryffindor team, but it was clear to Remus that he was nowhere near as confident a Seeker as he was a Chaser. He looked supremely frustrated circling the pitch in pursuit of the Golden Snitch—as though he didn't think he was doing enough to propel the team towards a victory.

Suddenly— "And that's Shacklebolt, evening the score for Gryffindor!" boomed Davey Gudgeon's reedy voice from the commentator's podium. "One-seventy, all!"

The Gryffindor stands erupted with raucous cheers as Kingsley did a celebratory loop around the pitch. Remus clapped enthusiastically along with the rest. He had to give it to Kingsley—for someone who had been given five minutes' notice of his new position, the younger boy looked extraordinarily calm and collected.

"If Gryffindor doesn't win by at least two hundred points, I'm going to be out about a hundred galleons," Sirius muttered under his breath, as the Quaffle went back into play.

"I still don't understand why you bet all your savings on this match," Remus said in a grim voice, hefting his binoculars up to his eyes so he could see the pitch more clearly.

"I've got to find some way to finance a new flat this summer, haven't I?" Sirius asked darkly. "My parents cleared my vault when I left. And I don't care what Prongs says—I'm not accepting another knut from his parents."

Remus lowered his binoculars, looking at Sirius. But before he could think of something comforting to say, there was a collective roar of outrage from the Gryffindor stands and Remus snapped his gaze back to the air. Bobby Rickett, a Hufflepuff Beater, had accidentally knocked his burly elbow into James's ribcage, sending his broom ricocheting.

Remus gasped, and Peter cried out in shock. Sirius let out a stream of expletives that earned him amused looks from a group of third year boys sitting nearby.

James deftly regained control of his broom, looking annoyed but otherwise unharmed. Madam Hooch awarded Gryffindor a penalty shot, which was effortlessly carried out by Chaser Meredith Fredericks, putting Gryffindor in the lead by ten points.

Over the next several minutes, the three Gryffindor Chasers scored ten points apiece. Then, Hufflepuff scored two goals in quick succession.

"I can't watch anymore," Sirius groaned, covering his face with his hands. "I can practically feel myself losing money."

"Look at something else, then," Remus suggested mildly. As he said it, his own gaze wandered over the Gryffindor stands. He quickly spotted Lily's unmistakable mane of red hair a few rows below—she was chewing her lip anxiously as she stared up at the sky. Sitting on either side of her were Honora and Mary—and next to Mary, looking rather out-of-place in the sea of scarlet and gold with his black and yellow scarf, sat the scrawny, ginger-haired form of Reg Cattermole. Remus noticed that he and Mary were holding hands.

He blinked. The sight didn't seem to hurt him anymore. Remus's brief relationship with Mary—if it could even be called as such—felt almost like a fading dream, now…

Hufflepuff and Gryffindor scored ten more points, each. Then, to Remus's amazement, Kingsley Shacklebolt invigorated the Gryffindor spectators by scoring three incredible goals, one after the other. The score was now two-fifty to two hundred, Gryffindor in the lead.

"Come on, Prongs," Sirius said under his breath. "Find that bloody Snitch already."

Remus spotted James flying high above everyone else, circling the pitch counterclockwise.

Suddenly, Peter gasped, pointing towards the grass. " _No!_ Stebbins has seen it!"

Remus's heart plummeted to his feet—Peter was right. Hufflepuff Seeker Lance Stebbins certainly had his eye on something—he was speeding towards the base of the Gryffindor goal posts, his yellow robes buffeting behind him—

"Damn it, Prongs!" Sirius bellowed up at the sky, cupping his hands around his mouth. "What the hell are you doing?"

Heart pounding, Remus looked wildly around—and his jaw dropped. Rather than diving towards the goal post like Stebbins, James—who was already at least ten feet above everyone else—had shot upwards. A confused, panicked buzz ignited the stands, spreading like wildfire, until it was almost a rumble. On the pitch, several players—Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, alike—paused in the act of whatever they were doing—Stebbins took his eyes off the Snitch, craning his head to look up at James—

" _Bloody hell!_ " Sirius bellowed in a strangled voice, while Peter cried out in shock. Remus's heart stopped. From nearly forty feet above the ground, James had executed a steep, hairpine dive—he was a red blur, a rippling jet of light—Remus couldn't make out heads or tails of his friend as he streaked towards the grass, shooting past an utterly dumbfounded Stebbins like a bullet, his fingers outstretched—

"YES!" Sirius roared, jumping to his feet and punching the air. "Merlin's bloody beard—he did it! _He did it!_ "

The Gryffindor stands exploded with noise as James pulled up sharply and landed on the grass, his hair sticking in every imaginable direction as he brandished the Golden Snitch in the air, grinning ecstatically.

Unable to keep the beaming smile off his face, Remus, along with Sirius and Peter, joined the enormous wave of scarlet-clad spectators pouring over the barriers onto the field. Shouting, chanting, laughing, the three of them maneuvered their way through the thick crowd, trying to reach James where he stood in the middle of the pitch with the silver Quidditch cup raised high above his head—but someone else got there first.

For the second time that afternoon, Remus felt his jaw drop as Lily suddenly pushed past them, towards James, her red hair streaming behind her like an enormous Gryffindor banner. Remus watched James press the Quidditch cup into Kingsley's hands as he saw her coming, his expression blazing. And then, under the dazzling sun, in front of the entire school, in the middle of the Quidditch pitch on a Saturday afternoon, Lily Evans threw herself into James Potter's arms and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

* * *

Author's Note:

Ah, Quidditch. Bringing couples together since at least the 70's. XD

With this chapter, we are officially 1/3 of the way done with this story! 50 chapters left!

Ari


	26. James

20 August 1977

"Bloody _hell_ , Padfoot."

Remus was standing in the living room of Sirius's newly purchased flat in Diagon Alley, gaping at the object that was leaning against the central wall, surrounded by about half a dozen unopened cardboard boxes: it was an enormous black and red motorcycle, complete with a massive engine and gleaming silver handlebars that reached higher than Remus's waist.

"Brilliant, isn't it?" Sirius beamed, reaching out and patting the bike's spotless leather seat.

Remus turned and shot Sirius an incredulous look. "You've officially lost your mind."

"Oh, relax, Moony," James called from where he and Peter were lounging on the only piece of furniture in Sirius's sitting room, a scruffy blue sofa. "His uncle Alphard left him an arseload of gold—he only spent about an eighth of it on this thing, really."

"Besides, what else I was supposed to do with it?" Sirius chimed in, the stupid grin on his face growing impossibly wider.

Remus could think of numerous other things on which Sirius could have spent his estranged late uncle's money—some more _furniture_ , at the very least—and perhaps if Remus hadn't been so utterly dumbstruck by the gigantic vehicle sitting in the center of the room, he might have listed them. Instead, he rounded on James.

"Why would you let him buy this thing?" Remus demanded. "You're supposed to be Head Boy in two weeks!"

"What does that have to do with anything?" James asked defensively, sitting up straight. "It's not like he's going to bring it to school with him!"

"Well, actually…" Sirius began, smirking.

Remus whirled around to face Sirius, but before he could say anything, James snapped, "Not a chance in hell, Padfoot."

"Come _on_ , Prongs," Sirius leaned back against the motorbike, resting his arm sleekly on the handlebars—and Remus was reminded inexplicably of the Muggle tabloid magazines his mother occasionally bought at the marketplace: Sirius and his motorcycle would fit right in. "Think how _cool_ it would be, riding into Hogwarts on this thing. We'd fly up the drive, ahead of all of the carriages—everyone would be watching—"

"You'd be expelled," Peter cried, his eyes wide and full of concern.

"You know, that _would_ be fun to watch," Remus said sardonically. "I reckon you'd even make the front page of the _Prophet_ —' _Hogwarts students expelled in their final year before they manage to step foot in the castle_.'"

James and Peter burst out laughing, while Sirius rolled his eyes, stepping away from his beloved motorcycle at last and collapsing onto the sofa next to James.

"You're no fun, all of you," Sirius grumbled. He looked at James. "Maybe I'll ask your uncle Caradoc to help me smuggle it into the castle. He's always up for a good laugh."

"In case you've forgotten, James's uncle works for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He's not going bend a hundred different Wizarding laws to help you make an entrance," Remus told Sirius, rolling his eyes. "Besides, Mr. Dearborn doesn't have access to Hogwarts—he couldn't help you even if he wanted to."

"Well, actually…he could," James looked at Remus, smiling somewhat sheepishly. "My uncle's retiring from the Ministry at the end of the month—he's going to be our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

" _What?_ " Peter gasped, looking around at James in amazement. "Prongs, you never said! Are you serious?"

"Yep," James nodded. "Padfoot and I were eavesdropping on my parents and uncle after Sunday dinner last week, and we heard them talking about it. Uncle Caradoc said he's agreed to teach at Hogwarts for a year as a special favor to Dumbledore. Apparently, Dumbledore's having trouble finding someone to take the Defense job these days—people are starting to think the position's jinxed."

Remus didn't find that hard to believe. He thought about the six different Defense Against the Dark Arts professors he'd had at Hogwarts so far. Professor Belby had only agreed to teach the subject on a one-year contract. Professor Bletchley had died of Dragon Pox the summer after his year on staff. Professor Carmichael had left school near the end of term to take care of her ailing father. Professor Fawcett had resigned after she'd discovered that she was pregnant. Professor Mockridge had quit to accept a prestigious job offer from the Ministry of Magic.

And most recently, Professor Atkinson—who had taught Remus and his friends in their sixth year—had been found murdered in his home, with the Dark Mark cast over his roof. Remus had read about the attack in the _Daily Prophet_ last week. It was one of several recent murders that the _Prophet_ had snuck into newspaper near the bottom of the last page. Remus wondered how many people had skimmed over the article altogether.

"…Your uncle's teaching at Hogwarts as a special favor?" Peter was asking James curiously. "Are he and Dumbledore friends, or something?"

James shrugged noncommittally. "Uncle Caradoc's pretty high up in the Ministry. He's always had tons of connections."

Something about the breezy indifference in James's tone caused Remus to look up and eye his friend suspiciously. He didn't know what it was, exactly, but suddenly, in that instant, Remus knew that James wasn't telling the whole truth about his uncle's new job.

Remus straightened, stepping away from the wall of Sirius's sitting room and towards the sofa, where all three of his friends sat. He crossed his arms. "Prongs," Remus said slowly, calmly—he was surprised by how calm his voice sounded. "What are you hiding?"

James snapped his head around to look at Remus, his eyes widening slightly—but the very next second, he had arranged his expression into one of mild confusion. "What're you talking about?" he asked, frowning.

"You're hiding something," Remus continued in the same determinedly calm voice. "You're not telling us something—something about your uncle, or Dumbledore. What is it?"

James blinked at Remus for several moments. Then, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa, he shared a sideways look with Sirius. Sirius shrugged at James, his expression inscrutable. Remus narrowed his eyes warily, looking from one boy to the other. Then, he glanced at Peter—the blond boy looked just as confused by James and Sirius's mysterious, silent exchange as Remus felt.

At last, James turned back around to face Remus. Then, swallowing heavily, he reached into the pocket of his jumper and withdrew a tiny, velvety maroon box. He flicked it open with his thumb.

Peter gasped loudly. Remus's jaw dropped. Inside the little box sat an elegant silver ring, set with a brilliant, shimmering diamond and small, rose-like clusters of rubies on either side.

For several, long moments, nobody spoke.

Then— "Is…is that an engagement ring?" Remus croaked.

"Yeah," James said, smiling slightly as he looked down at the ring. "I bought it at Jordan's Jewelers last week. Padfoot helped me pick it out."

Remus turned his dumbfounded gaze on Sirius, who merely shrugged. "Prongs doesn't know a ruby from a garnet."

"I-I—I don't…" Remus shook his head, looking incredulously from Sirius to James. " _Why?_ "

James took a deep breath. Then, closing the ring box, he slipped it back into his jumper pocket and faced Remus. "Next June, after the Leaving Ceremony," he said quietly, "I'm going to ask Lily to marry me. And then…we're going to join the Order of the Phoenix."

Remus blinked. "The—what?"

"The Order of the Phoenix," Sirius put in. "It's an underground organization founded by Professor Dumbledore to fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters. James's uncle is part of it—that's why he and Dumbledore know each other."

Remus was so utterly disarmed by this revelation that he wasn't sure what to ask first. And perhaps some of his astonishment showed in his expression, for James hastily continued speaking.

"Last Sunday…it wasn't the first time Padfoot and I have eavesdropped on my family," James said, sounding slightly guilty. "We—we've been listening outside doors for nearly two years, now. We've heard…a lot."

Remus felt a chill steal over him as he took in James's and Sirius's sinister expressions. He looked at Peter—the youngest Marauder was practically shaking.

"Dumbledore founded the Order of the Phoenix five years ago, when the war was really just starting to take shape," James said quietly. "Back then, it was small. My uncle was one of the first to join."

"But now, they've got members from all over Britain," Sirius revealed, his eyes gleaming. "In fact…James and I think that's the _real_ reason Caradoc is teaching at Hogwarts this year—we think he's going to help Dumbledore recruit members."

Remus's heart stuttered to a stop. "R-recruit?" he spluttered. "You mean—you don't mean… _students?_ "

"Well, they won't be advertising it," James said quickly. "I mean, it is a _secret_ society, after all. I reckon they're just going to be looking out for talented seventh years—people of age, of course."

There was a heavy, ringing pause, as all four boys stared at one another.

Then, suddenly, Sirius sat up straight. "I'm going to join," he announced, looking at each of his friends with a fierce, determined expression. "As soon as I'm out of school, that's it—I'm in."

Remus stared at Sirius, opening his mouth to respond—but he didn't know what to say. In fact, he didn't even know where to begin.

"I'm joining, too," James said quietly. Remus snapped his gaze back to James, whose hazel eyes were glinting strangely. "And so is Lily."

Remus blinked rapidly. "Lily?" he asked numbly.

James sighed heavily, nodding. "D'you remember those two-way mirrors Padfoot and I bought at Dervish and Banges in fifth year?"

"Yeah," Remus said slowly. "Why?"

"Well, I…I accidentally left mine at Lily's house a few weeks ago, when I was there meeting her mum, and…" James trailed off, shaking his head. "And Padfoot, being the arsehole that he is, called me at around two in the morning a couple days later, prattling on about the Order of the Phoenix for a good ten minutes before he realized that I wasn't responding," James said, shooting Sirius an annoyed look, which Sirius countered with a smirk. "Anyway, Lily heard it all—and the next time we saw each other, she told me that…that over her dead body would I be joining an underground resistance without her," James finished in a sheepish voice.

Sirius snickered. "Whipped."

James elbowed Sirius in the ribs, his face turning bright red.

Remus leaned back against the wall of Sirius's sitting room, his heart racing, his mind swirling with disjointed thoughts. The Order of the Phoenix—it seemed so… _brash_. Dangerous. Impulsive. James and Sirius, whether they realized it or not, were barely of age. What could they offer a covert operation that directly opposed the darkest criminal organization of modern Wizarding times?

"All right, there, Wormy?"

Sirius's voice brought Remus out of his reverie. He blinked, turning to look at Peter. The shorter boy had shrunk back against the sofa cushions, his face pale and his chin trembling.

"Peter?" James asked concernedly, sitting up and frowning at Peter. "Are you ill?"

"N-no," Peter stammered. "I-I—I just—" he broke off, averting his gaze and swallowing. "I'm scared," he whispered shamefacedly.

Sirius rolled his eyes, sitting back in his sofa and kicking his feet up. But to Remus's surprise, James's expression softened.

"Yeah, Wormy…I'm scared, too," James said softly. "And so is Sirius, even if he's too much of an arse to admit it—" Sirius made a scoffing noise, "—but you see… _that's_ why we're joining the Order. We can't afford to live our lives in constant fear, can we?"

Peter was now looking at James with reverence, as though he'd never quite seen anything like him before. Remus blinked, stunned—both by the gentleness of James's tone and by the words he was saying.

"I've thought about this a lot over the past few months," James said quietly, staring down at his lap. "About whether I'm too young for this—too young to fight." He paused, clenching his jaw. "But the thing about war is that it doesn't have an age limit. I mean, you've read the articles in the _Prophet_. These _monsters_ aren't restricting themselves to attacking competent adults. They aren't _scheduling_ duels. Professor Atkinson was murdered in his sleep, for Merlin's sake! And don't you remember in our fifth year, when they invaded that Muggle primary school? They slaughtered thirteen _children_ in broad daylight!"

Sirius's expression hardened. Peter looked nauseated.

Breathing heavily, James straightened his shoulders and turned to look directly at Remus. "So, yes, maybe I'm too young for this," he said in a low voice. "Maybe I'm not ready." He paused, his expression blazing. "But I don't care. We've all got a stake in this war, whether we know it yet or not—it's why I didn't argue with Lily when she told me she wanted to join the Order. The future's too uncertain for us to sit back and let others do the fighting." James lifted his chin, his jaw set. "If I'm not going to live to see tomorrow, I want it to be on my own terms."

Sirius let out a jubilant whoop and punched the air, his gray eyes gleaming. "Hear, hear!" he cried, ruffling James's untidy black hair, and even Peter's face seemed to regain some of its color as he considered his friends with admiration.

But James's sharp, hazel eyes were quite devoid of humor as they focused on Remus, blazing with that same, familiar confidence and conviction that preceded every Gryffindor Quidditch match, every midnight adventure, every full moon. Remus stared back, his heart pounding, unable to tear his eyes away.

In the two weeks that had elapsed since James had first received his Head Boy badge in the mail, he had been subjected to relentless teasing. Sirius had, of course, been positively beside himself with amusement about the whole situation; he'd spent several days telling his friends that the headmaster had been under the influence of several bottles of wine when he'd gotten around to choosing the Head Boy for the upcoming school year. And Remus, though he'd rolled his eyes and told Sirius to give it a rest, hadn't exactly contradicted him.

Because at the end of the day, James was by no standard the obvious choice for the position. Certainly, he was intelligent, even if his work ethic left something to be desired. And of course, no one could dispute that James was well-liked by his peers. But he also had a rap sheet a mile long, with more than one hundred and fifty detentions to his credit and the unique distinction of having had house points taken away from him by every single member of the Hogwarts staff.

It was only now, as Remus felt himself pinned under James's powerful gaze, that he finally understood. He finally understood why Professor Dumbledore had placed his trust in a boy who had wreaked havoc on the Hogwarts castle for six years. He finally understood why James had decided to buy an engagement ring for a girl who had once told him that she would rather date the Giant Squid than accompany him to Hogsmeade. Remus understood why, when James and Sirius joined the Order of the Phoenix in a year's time, he would be right behind them.

James Potter had made many questionable decisions in his life. He had broken school rules and violated Wizarding statutes. He had been a schoolyard bully and a rebellious teenager. But for every fight, there was an apology. For every mistake made, a blazing determination to set things right. For all of his arrogance and recklessness, there was sheer bravery, fierce loyalty, and heartfelt compassion in equal measure.

Because there was one thing James Potter never did. He never gave up.

* * *

Author's Note:

Ahhh, hi everyone! It's been ages! :( Basically, I've exhausted my arsenal of pre-written chapters for this story, so I'm working on building it up again. Updates might be a tad slow in the meantime.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I always love seeing James grow up.

Ari


	27. Order

9 July 1978

"So, this is it," Sirius said. He paused for a moment, surveying the dark, dilapidated-looking building with slightly raised eyebrows. "Not exactly what you'd expect for a meeting place of the resistance against Lord Voldemort, is it?" he asked under his breath.

"What were you expecting to find, Sirius?" Lily asked in an amused voice, from where she and James stood on Sirius's right, holding hands. "A castle? A bunch of knights feasting at a round table?"

Remus snorted, and James and Peter both smirked at Sirius.

"No," Sirius told Lily, rolling his eyes. "Just someplace that doesn't look like a breeding ground for disease."

"Yes, well, I think we can all agree that Dumbledore didn't pick this place for its aesthetic appeal," Remus said, eyeing the sign above the door of the gloomy-looking pub. A bloodied pig's head was carved onto the lintel; weathered and worn, it rattled slightly in the gentle summer night's breeze. (' _The Hog's Head Inn_ ,' the sign read. ' _Est. 1605.')_ "But I'm sure he has his reasons."

"I'm surprised the four of you have never been here before," Lily said, resting her head against James's shoulder.

"Have _you?_ " Sirius asked her skeptically.

"No, but _my_ friends and I didn't spend two years wandering the village as animals by night, did we?" Lily retorted, arching her eyebrows.

It took several moments for Lily's words to register—but when they did, Remus's heart skittered. Simultaneously, he, Sirius, and Peter all swiveled around to gape at James.

"You _told_ her?" Sirius demanded in a fierce whisper.

"I'm marrying her," James said defensively, as if that were explanation enough.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Relax, Padfoot," she said bracingly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I think it's incredible, what you've all done for Remus— _extremely_ dangerous, of course, but still, incredible. What d'you think I'm going to do? Report you and put you in Azkaban for life? Merlin knows you couldn't last a minute in there."

James and Peter snickered, and even Sirius looked torn between gratification and indignation.

"If the five of you stay out here gossiping much longer, Azkaban will be the least of your problems."

Remus's heart leaped into his throat. Whipping out his wand, he whirled around. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that James, Sirius, Lily, and Peter had done the same thing. Peter's arm was trembling slightly.

A tall, sharp-featured woman, whose dark blond hair was pulled into a taut ponytail at the top of her head, was leaning against the now-open doorway to the Hog's Head, arms crossed. She looked momentarily stunned to find herself at the receiving end of so many wands—but then, her face melted into a thin-lipped smile that suddenly became very familiar to Remus. "Impressive reflexes," she observed. "I see why Dumbledore was so intent on the five of you."

"Marlene Cresswell?" Remus asked disbelievingly, lowering his wand a fraction. "Is that you?"

"McKinnon, actually, for the last two years or so," Marlene said, raising her left hand briefly—and Remus saw a simple wedding band on her fourth finger. She faced Remus, her smile widening slightly as she reached out and gripped his right hand tightly with her own. "Little Remus Lupin. It's nice to see you again—though it's a pity it couldn't be under more cheerful circumstances."

"Yeah—blimey…I—I wasn't expecting you," Remus said in astonishment. Giving his head a shake, he turned back to his friends. "Everyone, this is Marlene. She was Head Girl in our first year—and the best Gobstones captain I ever had."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Marlene told Remus lightly, as she took turns shaking James's and Sirius's hands. "Dirk says you gave me quite the run for my money."

"Dirk?" Lily asked, sounding surprised. "D'you mean—Dirk Cresswell?"

"My kid brother," Marlene explained, holding open the door to the Hog's Head and ushering Remus and his friends through. "We haven't spoken in a few months though—ever since I told him about the Order, actually. I thought he'd be interested in joining after he graduates next year, but he was dead set against it—called the whole thing a wild goose chase." Marlene shook her head, leading the Marauders and Lily down a narrow, dark corridor. "I reckon his idea of fighting would be if we changed our identities and avoided persecution by pretending to be pure-bloods."

There was a brief silence, as Remus and his friends absorbed this.

Then— "He's wrong," Sirius said resolutely, his bright gray eyes glinting in the dimly-lit hallway.

Marlene turned and shot Sirius a wry smile over her shoulder. "I couldn't agree more."

They had reached the pub's main room. It was small and shabby, and, oddly enough, seemed to smell strongly of something akin to goats. The large bay windows were begrimed with filth, and the stone floor was so dirty that it appeared as though there were not a floor at all, but rather that the building was built on open ground. The six or seven customers scattered about the premises, however, didn't seem to mind this in the slightest, as they hunched over the rough wooden tables, nursing dusty glasses of drinks.

Remus blinked, looking sideways at his friends, who looked similarly nonplussed. But Marlene was unfazed.

"Evening, Ab," she greeted the barman briskly, as she strode behind the bar counter. "We're heading up."

The barman—a tall, thin, grumpy-looking man with a large grizzly beard—merely grunted in response, but eyed the group of six warily as they passed.

Marlene led the way through a second doorway, which revealed a rickety wooden staircase. And now, Remus could hear voices, hushed and muffled, on the landing. Heart racing, he stumbled up the stairs after Marlene—and a moment later, he found himself in a cramped sitting room with a threadbare rug and a small fireplace. The walls were completely bare, with the exception of a single oil painting of a young blonde girl that hung above the mantel, and the only piece of furniture in the room was an ovular table, around which sat approximately a dozen witches and wizards, all talking and laughing amongst themselves. It was clear that an Undetectable Extension Charm had been used on the tiny room to accommodate all of these people, and yet, the table seemed to be bursting at the seams. Remus spotted Professor Dumbledore immediately, his unmistakable silvery beard appearing even brighter than usual in the poorly lit expanse. He was deep in conversation with Professor McGonagall, as well as James's uncle Caradoc and another tall wizard with short peppery-gray hair, who had a hand on Professor McGonagall's shoulder.

"Oi, McKinnon! Decided to grace us with your presence at last, have you?"

Remus blinked, looking around. Two broad-shouldered men, both of whom looked to be in their thirties, were grinning at Marlene from the far end of the table. Marlene rolled her eyes at them before she walked over, gesturing for Remus and the rest to follow.

"I was collecting the newbies, Bones," Marlene informed the taller of the men, who had dark hair and a scruffy mustache. "What's your excuse for being late to every meeting?"

"One word. Children," Bones retorted, shaking his head. "Merlin, I don't know how Elinor spends so many nights getting them to bed by herself. She's a force of nature, my wife is."

"I reckon she had loads of practice dealing with you," Marlene said airily, and Bones rolled his eyes while the other man guffawed, thumping his back.

Then, Bones looked past Marlene's shoulder at Remus and his friends—and he grinned. "So, you lot must be the new recruits," he observed. "Edgar Bones," he introduced himself. "And this is Benjy Fenwick," he added, gesturing to the man on his left, who smiled and saluted the group in greeting.

"They're Aurors," Marlene explained to the Marauders and Lily. "They were recruited by Alastor Moody."

"Alastor Moody?" Sirius asked, his eyes widening. " _The_ Alastor Moody? The head of the Aurors?"

"The very same," Edgar Bones nodded, glancing at his watch. "We're actually waiting on him to start the meeting. He and the Longbottoms were following a tip in Avebury, but they should've been back by now." He frowned down at his watch for a moment, then shook his head, looking up at Marlene. "Why don't you introduce these kids to everyone else in the meantime?"

"Good idea," Marlene nodded, straightening up and glancing around the room. "Is everyone here?"

"Reckon so," Benjy Fenwick said, looking around as well. "Well, except for Mundungus—but it looks like Aberforth's banned him from the pub for good this time, so we're not likely to see him tonight."

"Banned him from the pub?" Peter asked confusedly. "What for?"

"Beats us," said a new voice, and Remus turned to see a pair of freckled, red-haired twins approaching the group, grinning identically. "Dung's the life and soul of this organization."

"I don't know about _life and soul_ ," Edgar snorted, shaking his head. "The only known criminal in the group, maybe."

"The operative word there is _known_ ," one of the twins told the Marauders, smirking. "Merlin knows Fabian and I would've been chucked into Azkaban years ago if we weren't so valuable to the Order."

James and Sirius laughed, and the twin named Fabian winked at them. Lily shook her head, an exasperated smile on her face.

"Gits," Marlene said idly, rolling her eyes at the twins. "Your egos need a good dose of Shrinking Solution."

The twins just grinned at her, before turning back to Remus and his friends.

"Fabian Prewett," Fabian introduced himself, reaching out and shaking James's hand. "And this is my slightly older brother, Gideon."

"We were lying before, when we said Dung was the life and soul of the Order," Gideon said in a conspiratorial whisper, as he shook Sirius's hand, his eyes gleaming. "That's actually us."

Sirius grinned broadly, looking at James. "Looks like we've got competition, mate."

James snorted. "What, these two? Padfoot, it's only a competition if there's a chance we won't win."

"Cute, aren't they, Gid?" Fabian asked his twin, smirking at James and Sirius.

"The cutest," Gideon responded with an evil grin. "Adorable, little Puffskeins, they are."

"Best leave them to it," Marlene said in a low voice to Remus, Lily, and Peter. "The Prewett twins love a good ragging."

Remus shook his head slowly. "With these four, I'm not sure who's going to end up doing the ragging."

Marlene laughed. "Come on, I'll introduce you to everyone else. Moody will be here any second."

Over the next several minutes, Remus found himself meeting and greeting witches and wizards from what seemed like every pocket of Britain. There was Dedalus Diggle, a tiny, excitable man from Kent who kept dropping his hat as he talked. He and his friend, Sturgis Podmore, were both employees of the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry, and were apparently singlehandedly responsible for developing the Order's foreign contacts. Then, there was Elphias Doge, a wheezy, old wizard who had known Professor Dumbledore since their Hogwarts years. According to Marlene, Doge worked in Wizengamot Administration Services, and was thus able to provide the Order with access to otherwise restricted court documents, hearing dates, and judges' schedules.

Then, Remus was introduced to Emmeline Vance and Dorcas Meadowes, two dark-haired, impeccably-dressed, formidable-looking sisters who were members of a special Ministry force called the Witch Watch, responsible for locating and capturing dangerous fugitives. ("Scary girls, the pair of them. I wouldn't cross them unless you've got a death wish," Fabian Prewett whispered audibly to Remus, earning himself a reproving glare from Dorcas.)

By the time Remus finally found himself being corralled into a seat at the meeting table between James and Fabian, having just been introduced to the deputy head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Elphinstone Urquart—the peppery-haired wizard whom Remus had seen standing with Professor McGonagall earlier—he was feeling quiet overwhelmed, indeed. It wasn't that Remus hadn't anticipated being one of the youngest in the Order—of course he had. After all, it had been only two weeks since he and his friends had graduated from Hogwarts. But it was only now, surrounded by all of these Aurors, and Hit Witches, and esteemed Ministry officials, that Remus fully realized just how young he was. Even the Prewett twins, for all of their good humor and sparkling wit, seemed to command a great deal of respect at the table. Gringotts curse-breakers with an intuitive knack for problem-solving, the Prewetts had repeatedly proven their worth by extricating their fellow Order members from a number of sticky situations, Remus had learned.

Suddenly, there was a loud clatter of footsteps near the stairs, and Remus jumped, turning to see a very windswept Frank Longbottom enter the room, followed by Alice Fawley—Longbottom, Remus corrected himself, quickly spotting the rings on Alice's left hand. Remus watched as the pair took seats at the far end of the table next to Edgar Bones and Benjy Fenwick.

"Moody's on his way up," Frank addressed Professor Dumbledore, who was seated at the head of the table, just a few feet away from Remus. Professor Dumbledore smiled at Frank, nodding.

A few moments later, a shadow was cast over the top of the staircase again, as, at long last, Alastor Moody trudged into the cramped sitting room, his piercing gaze sweeping over the table. Grizzled and graying, Moody looked even more menacing in person than he did in the _Daily Prophet_ , with features so sharp that they looked as though they had been carved into his face. Remus held his breath as the Auror crossed the room. He glanced to his right; James and Sirius looked positively star struck.

"Sorry I'm late," Moody muttered gruffly to Dumbledore, as he reached the head of the table. "There was a hold-up in Avebury. I'll explain later."

Professor Dumbledore nodded at him, glancing in the direction of the stairs. "Did Aberforth say if he would be joining us today?"

"He was going to, but I told him to stay downstairs and keep a watch instead. Saw a couple of blokes at the bar I didn't like the look of," Moody grunted. He looked up and glanced around at the room. "Where's Hagrid?"

"At the castle, tending to several ailing thestrals," Dumbledore told him. "I assured him I would get him up to speed tomorrow."

Moody nodded. "Remind me to give you message for him. I've got a new mission I think he'd appreciate." Then, with another grunt and a sweeping look at the occupants of the table, Moody finally took his seat on Dumbledore's left, next to Professor McGonagall. As Dumbledore got to his feet, shuffling through the scrolls of parchment on the table before him, Moody's dark, piercing eyes came to rest on where Remus, James, and Sirius were sitting, sandwiched between the Prewett twins.

"They get younger every week," Moody growled under his breath, to no one in particular, as he considered the three boys through narrowed eyes. "You'd better listen closely tonight, lads," he barked. "This is your chance to show that you're more than just a bunch of pretty faces."

There was a soft rumble of laughter from around the table, and Remus felt his face flush. He glanced sideways at James and Sirius—they had tensed like dogs on a scent, plainly keen to begin proving themselves as soon as possible.

Professor Dumbledore looked at James and Sirius, and he smiled. Then, clearing his throat, he straightened his shoulders and began, "Calling to order this meeting on the ninth of July, the one hundred and eighty-fifth meeting of the Order of the Phoenix…"

"Don't take it the wrong way," said a low voice suddenly in Remus's ear, and Remus turned to his left to find Fabian Prewett grinning at him. "There was a time when old Moody called Gid and me pretty faces, too," Fabian muttered, eyes twinkling. "He doesn't say it to just anyone."

Remus blinked, several times. Then, smiling slightly in spite of himself, he turned to face the front of the room again.

For the first time that evening, Remus felt at home in the grubby, little upper room of the Hog's Head Inn, surrounded by witches and wizards who knew exactly what they were fighting for, and why.

* * *

Author's Note:

I've been SO excited for this chapter, you have no idea! With this chapter, we officially kick off the nine-chapter arc that revolves around the Marauders and Lily navigating adult life/the Order. Until...stuff happens. *sobs*

But let's not think about that yet! This was a fun chapter to write. As you could probably tell from reading it, I've always pictured the Marauders and Lily as the youngest members of the first Order, by quite a few years. (The next youngest are Frank and Alice, who are still four years older than Remus and co. in my head canon.) I like to think Remus and his friends earned the respect of veterans like Alastor Moody and Elphinstone Urquart in spite of their youth.

Tiny disclaimer: Moody's "pretty faces" line is adapted from a story by the lovely MandyinKC called 'Outtakes.' You should be able to find it in Chapter 3.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Ari


	28. Potters

13 August 1978

After seven long years of fights, threats, and downright pandemonium, James Potter married Lily Evans on a beautiful mid-August afternoon—and sparks flew, tectonic plates shifted, and worlds collided as the deliriously happy couple exchanged vows.

For the sake of safety, it was a quiet, private affair. Sirius was best man. Mary Macdonald, whom Lily hadn't seen since June because of how busy the Order kept her, looked delighted to be maid of honor. Professor Dumbledore himself had graciously offered to officiate the event, which was attended only by about thirty well-wishers in total—consisting almost exclusively of Order members and their families. In fact, the ceremony itself was held in the garden of Bryce and Marlene McKinnon's peaceful, seaside bungalow on the Isle of Skye.

After walking Lily down the aisle, Remus took his seat in the front row, between James's parents and Peter. Mrs. Potter, who had started crying the moment the wedding march began, was now openly sobbing into her husband's robes—much to the amusement of James's uncle Caradoc, who was seated on his sister's other side.

"Do you, James Fleamont Potter, take Lily Joanne Evans…?"

Remus glanced sideways at Peter, beaming, as James—sporting the same stupid grin he'd worn the first time Lily had kissed him—said, "I do." Peter returned the smile, punching Remus's shoulder affectionately. Meanwhile, trumpet-like sobs from the back row told Remus that Hagrid had pulled out his blanket-sized handkerchief. Sure enough, glancing over his shoulder, Remus saw Professor McGonagall patting Hagrid's enormous arm comfortingly—but even the ever-stoic deputy headmistress looked to be fighting back tears.

"…then, I declare you both bonded for life," Dumbledore finished softly. He turned to James, smiling as he raised his wand. "You may kiss your bride."

And with a piercing wolf-whistle from Sirius and an enthusiastic round of applause from the guests, led by Remus and Peter, James Potter kissed Lily Potter under a cloudburst of golden sparks.

* * *

It was nearly midnight. Remus, Sirius, and Peter were all lounging around the sitting room of James and Lily's new cottage in Godric's Hollow, which had been an early wedding present to the couple from James's parents. Peter was snoring in the armchair by the fireplace with Lily's cat Snuffles curled up on his stomach. Sirius and James were seated on the rug, sorting through wedding presents while nursing glasses of mulled mead. Remus, meanwhile, was cross-legged on the sofa, carefully soaking the long roll of photo film that he'd used up at the reception in a tray of developing potion.

Just then— "Petunia sent a letter," Lily announced in a flat voice, striding into the sitting room from the kitchen. She was still wearing her wedding gown, though she'd long since disposed of her makeup and tied her auburn hair into a messy knot at the back of her head.

Remus watched James glance up from the pile of wedding presents, his expression wary as he spotted the envelope in Lily's hands. "What did she say?" James asked slowly.

"Oh, just that she's _terribly sorry_ she and Vernon couldn't make it to the _freak show_ today," Lily said scornfully, tossing the letter onto the coffee table and joining James and Sirius on the rug, her expression furious.

James sighed, setting down the present he'd been in the process of opening and putting his arm around Lily's shoulders. "Sorry," he murmured, pulling her close and kissing the side of her head.

Lily's expression softened slightly, and she relaxed against James's shoulder. "It's not your fault," she said quietly. Then, she swallowed, looking up at James. "We should visit my mum tomorrow, see how she's doing. Tuney said that they might have to take her back to the hospital soon."

Remus looked up, exchanging somber grimaces with James and Sirius. Barely three years after Lily's father had passed away, Lily's mother had fallen seriously ill.

"Of course we'll visit your mum," James told Lily firmly. "We—we can visit her every day, if you want."

Lily sniffed but beamed at James, leaning up and pressing her lips to his in a lingering kiss.

"Oi, get a room," Sirius complained, crumpling up a ball of wrapping paper and tossing it at James's head. Remus snorted as James jerked back with a yelp of surprise.

Pulling away from James, Lily turned to face Sirius, her arms crossed. "You know, Padfoot, you seem to be a bit confused about how wedding nights work," she told him sardonically. "Usually, it's just the bride and groom—not the bride and groom and all his friends."

"Ah, come on, Evans, surely you knew that marrying Prongs meant marrying all of us," Sirius said in an earnest voice, his eyes gleaming.

"That must be why I don't seem to have a single picture from the reception of the newylweds by themselves," Remus told Sirius in an exasperated voice from the sofa, where he was now organizing the freshly developed photographs. "Honestly, Padfoot, you even made it into the one of their first dance."

Sirius threw his head back and let out a bark-like shout of laughter. The noise startled Peter out of his slumber—he jerked awake and sat bolt upright in his armchair, causing Snuffles to fall off of his perch. With a disgruntled hiss, the fat black cat slunk away to plant himself in Sirius's lap instead; Sirius reached out and scratched its ears.

"Whuzgoinon?" Peter mumbled, blinking around the room blearily.

"Nothing, Wormy," Lily said with a sympathetic smile, while James and Sirius both snickered at Peter's bewildered expression. "Go back to sleep. You look beat."

"No, 'mup…'mawake," Peter said groggily, rubbing his eyes and straightening up in his armchair. James grinned at him from the rug, reaching up and ruffling his blond hair.

The five friends lapsed into a comfortable silence, smiling lazily at one another. It was a rare moment of peace, Remus knew. A stolen hour of freedom. Tomorrow, they would wake up to a newspaper full of poorly hushed up deaths and disappearances, as they always did. In the next few days, they would each receive their weekly reconnaissance assignments from Moody, which would keep them all busy until the next Order meeting. It was for this that James and Lily hadn't even bothered to plan a honeymoon. When Marlene McKinnon and Alice Longbottom had questioned Lily about it, she had shrugged and told them quietly, "If we leave town, who knows what we'll come home to?"

A small lump formed in Remus's throat, but he swallowed it quickly, turning back to the stack of photographs on the sofa in front of him. Gingerly, he picked up the photograph at the top of the pile. James was grinning broadly at the camera, waving occasionally, while Lily, her face glowing with happiness, swung from his arms. Sirius, roaring with laughter at something outside of the frame, had one arm around James while he punched the air with the other.

"All right—one last nightcap, and then time for bed, I reckon," James announced, stifling a yawn behind his hand. Drawing his wand, he flicked it in the direction of the kitchen, and three scotch glasses soared into the sitting room to join the two that were already on the coffee table. Snatching up the bottle of mulled mead (a wedding gift from the Prewett twins) from under the table, James poured a respectable amount into each glass before passing them around.

"A toast," Sirius said, flicking his hair back and smirking, as he raised his glass in the air, "to unconventional wedding nights."

James rolled his eyes but raised his glass nonetheless, turning to grin at Lily. "To Lily Evans coming to her senses about a certain _arrogant toerag_."

Remus and Peter chuckled as Lily narrowed her eyes at James. Raising her own glass, she said tartly, "To the Giant Squid. I'd leave my husband for you any day, darling."

Sirius guffawed heartily, and Lily's lips twitched. James, looking sheepish, buried his face in his wife's hair. Then, they all looked expectantly at Peter.

Peter cleared his throat, lifting his glass. "To…staying safe," he whispered. "A-and having a future."

Remus's heart clenched. Sirius groaned, "Wormtail, don't bloody kill the mood."

Lily swatted Sirius's shoulder, her jaw tight. "He's right, Sirius," she said sharply, green eyes blazing. "This is war. We shouldn't take anything for granted."

Sirius looked like he wanted to argue, but James quelled him with a look. A slightly more subdued silence fell over the sitting room this time—broken only when Remus, swallowing, finally lifted his own glass.

"To us," he said quietly, and all four of his friends looked at him. Remus smiled tightly around at them all, trying to etch every detail of the moment into his memory—Lily's gentle smile, James's arm snug about her shoulders…Sirius's twinkling eyes and cool, casual grace—even with a cat curled up in his lap—and Peter's grateful expression, and the slight quiver of his chin as he clinked his glass with Sirius's.

"To us," they echoed.


	29. Voldemort

8 September 1979

Remus lumbered up the stairs to the Hog's Head's upper room, nearly an hour late to the afternoon's Order meeting. The full moon on Thursday night had completely drained him of energy, and he'd needed more than a full day to recover. Though his transformations were no longer nearly as painful as they'd been in his Hogwarts prime—when the unfortunate combination of increasing hormones and growth spurts had wreaked havoc on Remus's body—Remus was still getting used to not having his friends with him every month. It had been decided—by Remus, mostly, though his friends had grudgingly agreed—that it was no longer safe for them to spend the full moons together now that they were outside the safe confines of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, with James, Sirius, and Peter duly at risk of being caught and tried for their illegal Animagus statuses.

When Remus had joined the Order last July, Professor Dumbledore, with the assistance of Alastor Moody and Mr. Dearborn—the only two additional Order members that Dumbledore had informed of Remus's condition—had found and secured a large, uninhabited plot of land in Somerset, several miles north of Godric's Hollow, where Remus could spend the full moons away from civilization. It was vastly better than the suffocating walls of the Shrieking Shack, though it was lonely: Remus usually awoke in the mornings curled up under an unfamiliar bush or tree, feeling exhausted, disoriented, and raw.

But in all honesty, Remus didn't have enough time in his daily schedule to dwell on any insubstantial feelings of loneliness. In the year that had passed since Remus and his friends had joined the Order of the Phoenix, all five of them had immersed themselves completely into the framework of the group. In fact, of the Order's twenty-five members, Remus, Sirius, James, Lily, and Peter were the only ones who worked for the organization full-time. James and Sirius had both put off applying to the Auror Academy so they could be more readily available to volunteer themselves for the high-risk, investigative missions that Moody often pitched at the end of meetings. Lily, who had dreamed of being a Healer for as long as Remus could remember, was now instead using her unparalleled skills as a potioneer to maintain the Order's stores of Polyjuice Potion and Skele-Gro, when she wasn't off accompanying James, Sirius, and Remus on missions. And Peter, who was nowhere near as confident a duelist as James or Sirius, had nevertheless made himself useful to the Order in a very different way—with his keen knack for research and reconnaissance, Peter was often enlisted by Dumbledore to document sensitive intel and pass important information along between different Order members.

It was a hectic, grueling lifestyle, and one that Remus had initially doubted he would be able to sustain. Unlike James, Sirius, and Peter, who were able to combat their relative unemployment by making do with family savings—and in the cases of James and Sirius, it was more like small family fortunes—Remus did not have a knut to his name. He had been sure, a few weeks into working for the Order, that he would soon have to quit so that he could find a real way to make a living—but James and Lily had stepped in. After shouting down Remus's vehement protests, the Potters had co-signed with Remus a lease for a sweet, cozy flat in Diagon Alley, and a few weeks later, he had found himself living comfortably in the heart of Wizarding London, just a few blocks down the street from Sirius's and Peter's flats, and just a fireplace away from James and Lily's Godric's Hollow cottage.

Rubbing his slightly sore temples, Remus finally shuffled up the last few stairs to the Hog's Head's upstairs sitting room—and immediately, he could tell that something was wrong. The meeting appeared to be over, but the atmosphere in the room was taut and tense. Little pockets of Order members were scattered about the room, talking in hushed whispers. Professor Dumbledore and Moody were locked in what looked like a quiet, but serious argument near the fireplace. Remus stared at the pair for a moment, before shifting his gaze to the meeting table—Peter was the only one still sitting there, looking slightly more pale-faced than usual as he hunched over a scroll of parchment, recording meeting minutes for Dumbledore.

Remus quickly crossed the room towards Peter. "Hey," he said quietly, sitting down next to his friend. "What's going on? What did I miss?"

Peter looked up from his parchment, swallowing heavily. "Moody just announced that he thinks he's confirmed five more Death Eaters. Dumbledore called a break because everyone was talking over each other."

Remus's stomach flipped unpleasantly. " _Five?_ " he asked in horror. The Order's list of confirmed Death Eaters was constantly growing, but Remus had never known it to increase by five in one afternoon. "Who—who are they?"

"One of them is a foreigner," Peter said, his voice trembling slightly. "His name's…Dolohov, or something—Dumbledore thinks he's from Eastern Europe. Moody cornered him in Wiltshire last week and they got into a duel. And the other four…" Peter trailed off.

"Peter, who are they?" Remus asked urgently.

"It's the Slytherins from school," Peter said in a low voice. "Mulciber, Avery, Wilkes, and—Snape."

Remus's stomach gave another dull lurch. It wasn't exactly a surprise—the Slytherin boys in his year had always been nauseatingly open about their affinity for the Dark Arts—but it was a blow nonetheless. Remus had sat next to these four men in classes for seven years, sharing teachers and even, on occasion, pairing up for assignments…

Clenching his jaw, Remus looked across the room and spotted James, Lily, and Sirius standing with James's uncle Caradoc. James and Lily were both conversing heatedly with Mr. Dearborn, and Remus felt sure that they were discussing Snape, for James's face was red with anger and Lily's expression was as hard as stone—but Sirius was conspicuously detached from the conversation, leaning against the grubby wall with an odd, vacant look in his eyes.

Remus stared at him.

"Wormtail, what's wrong with Sirius?" Remus asked, frowning.

Peter didn't respond immediately. Remus blinked, turning back around to face Peter. "Peter—?"

"It's his brother," Peter said, his chin trembling. "Regulus…h-he…he's—dead."

Remus's heart plummeted to his feet. He gaped at Peter. " _What?_ "

"Moody told us at the meeting," Peter continued in a whisper. "I—I don't think he knew that Sirius and Regulus were brothers. Apparently, when Moody was dueling Dolohov, Dolohov—h-he let a few Death Eater secrets slip. According to Dolohov, Regulus was killed by V-Voldemort for…for getting cold feet."

Remus felt a flicker of astonishment. "You mean—Regulus was a Death Eater and he _betrayed_ Voldemort?"

"We don't know if it's that serious," Peter said, sounding upset. "He—he might not have _betrayed_ anyone—he might have just wanted out."

Remus shook his head slowly, turning to look at Sirius again. "We should talk to him," Remus said quietly.

Peter bit his lip and glanced at Sirius, before turning back to his parchment. "I…I think I'm going to finish these minutes first," he said, his voice slightly constricted. "I'll join you lot later."

Remus nodded and clapped Peter's shoulder bracingly, before setting off across the room towards Sirius. James, Lily, and Mr. Dearborn had drifted away to join Marlene McKinnon and Sturgis Podmore in conversation, but Sirius hadn't moved. He was still leaning against the wall with the same numb expression on his face. Remus approached him cautiously.

"Padfoot?"

Sirius blinked, looking at Remus, his expression inscrutable. For several, long moments, he didn't say anything.

Then— "So. You've heard," Sirius said in a flat voice.

Remus nodded. "I'm sorry, Sirius," he said quietly.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "What for?"

Remus swallowed. "Sirius…your brother—"

"He's not my brother, Remus," Sirius said acidly, his eyes glinting. "Maybe he was in a different lifetime, but not anymore."

Remus blinked. "Padfoot—"

"I always knew he was an idiot," Sirius continued, in the same harsh voice. "But I honestly never thought he'd be stupid enough to follow in Bellatrix's footsteps. I thought he'd be like Cissy—marry _respectably_ and preach pure-blood supremacy to his dim-witted kids."

Remus stared at Sirius, unsure of how to respond. A tense, lingering silence seemed to fill the space between them, hanging thickly in the air.

Finally, Remus cleared his throat. "Sirius, Peter told me that Regulus was killed for getting cold feet. Maybe…maybe he _realized_ that he'd picked the wrong side—"

" _Ha_ ," Sirius barked out a derisive laugh. "That's what Lily said, too." He shook his head, giving Remus a sarcastic smile. "You're giving Reg too much credit, Remus. He was always a coward, too afraid to question a word our parents said to him. I'll bet you anything he got in too deep with his stupid Death Eater pals, panicked, and then tried to run. Idiot."

Remus's heart sank. There was no reasoning with Sirius when he became this way, masking any grief he was possibly feeling behind a wall of vicious anger. But Remus hadn't forgotten Sirius's disappointment when Regulus was sorted into Slytherin, after he had spent a year telling his friends how much he was looking forward to having his little brother at Hogwarts at last…nor had Remus forgotten Sirius's shock and horror in their sixth year, when he had watched Regulus be knocked off his broom by a Ravenclaw Beater during a Quidditch match…

Deciding that Sirius couldn't possibly become more hostile than he already was, Remus swallowed and decided to try one last time. "Look—Sirius—"

 _CRASH_.

Screams and yells of shock rent the air, wands came out all around the room, and reflexes born of wartime brought every single occupant of the Hog's Head's upper room to their feet, as two struggling figures suddenly stumbled up the staircase and fell—literally—upon the threshold. Without hesitation, Remus and Sirius stepped forward, wands drawn—but a second later, Remus felt his heart stutter to a stop. It was the Prewett twins—but neither one was laughing, as usual. One of them—Fabian, Remus was fairly certain—was supporting the other, who was barely conscious and was bleeding profusely from a deep wound in his neck. Blood, shockingly dark and red, was everywhere.

"There's been an attack," Fabian said in a high, strained voice. "Muggle London, Westminster—they've probably blown up half the bridge by now. The ringleader was the Lestrange woman, but she's got about ten others with her. She nearly cursed Gideon's head off."

"No," mumbled Gideon, his knees buckling; Fabian swore under his breath and seized his brother tightly about the middle. "Could've…taken her…crazy bitch…"

"Shut it, Gid," Fabian said furiously, his face starkly white beneath his freckles.

There was a shivering silence, the raw horror of the moment suspended. Then, the room seemed to burst to life.

"Alastor, get messages to Edgar, Benjy, and the Longbottoms—round up as many Aurors as you can," Dumbledore said, his voice ringing clearly over the din of people gearing up to head to Muggle London. "And someone else needs to contact Emmeline's husband Victor Vance in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes—we need Obliviators on the scene immediately."

"I can go to Victor," offered Dorcas Meadowes, Emmeline's sister. "And I'll get a hold of Emmeline, too—she's on duty in Surrey right now. We'll meet you in London." Dorcas's face, which had turned as pale as a ghost's when the Prewett twins had arrived, was now set and determined.

"Excellent," Dumbledore told Dorcas, and she nodded. After giving Fabian's shoulder a comforting squeeze, Dorcas hurried down the stairs and out of sight.

Dumbledore turned to Peter. "Peter, would you please escort the Prewetts to Edgar Bones's home in Yorkshire? I've already sent word to his wife Elinor—she will be expecting you."

Peter nodded, looking hugely relieved by his task. With Gideon's feeble-looking body between them, Peter and Fabian too disappeared down the stairs.

Dumbledore then turned to face the remaining half-dozen or so people in the room: Sturgis Podmore, Marlene McKinnon, Dedalus Diggle, Mr. Dearborn, James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus himself.

"The rest of us, if everyone is prepared, will make haste to London," Dumbledore said, glancing around at the room. His gaze lingered for a moment on Sirius, and Remus glanced sideways at his friend. Cold fury blazed in Sirius's pale gray eyes, radiating from his body in waves, and Remus's stomach turned over. Bellatrix Lestrange was a fearsome woman, Remus had come to learn over the past year. A menace on the battlefield, driven completely by emotion, she was supremely devoted to maintaining the purity and prestige of the Black family name.

What she and her cousin Sirius didn't share in beliefs, they seemed to make up for in temperament.

* * *

Before Remus had been bitten, he and his mother had been frequent visitors to Muggle London. There were numerous photo albums in his father's study of Remus, as a toddler, accompanying his mother to antique shops and art museums. But after Remus was bitten, public outings quickly became a thing of the past. Gone were the afternoons of driving across the Thames and the evenings of thrifting for secondhand records—the city was far too exposed and populated a place for Remus's condition to safely remain a secret.

Throughout his childhood, Remus's parents had gone to great lengths to keep Remus's lycanthropy hidden from their Muggle neighbors. Now, in one afternoon, about a dozen wizards had completely blown the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy out of the water.

"Bloody hell," Remus said hoarsely, as he apparated into the middle of Westminster Bridge Road. Storefronts were shattered, splintered glass scattered everywhere. Rooftops were in flames, and the smells of smoke and burning debris were suffocating. Obliviators in stiff gray robes were fervently corralling groups of Muggles—regular citizens and law enforcement officials, alike—out of the street. Meanwhile, packs of Aurors and Hit Wizards were swarming the buildings, casting protective enchantments.

"Oh, my God," Lily whispered, as she and James appeared suddenly behind Remus with a faint _pop_. "I can't believe this."

Remus pressed his lips together, drawing his wand. Moments later, he, James, and Lily were joined by Dumbledore, Mr. Dearborn, Dedalus, Sturgis, Marlene, and Sirius.

"We should move in groups of two," Mr. Dearborn advised, pointing his wand in the direction of a nearby pillar that was in flames—with a jet of water from Mr. Deaborn's wand, the flames subsided, replaced by a wispy coil of smoke. "If you encounter distress, send up the usual gold sparks and assistance will arrive as soon as possible."

There was a murmur of assent from the group, and everyone quickly paired off, disappearing into the chaos. James and Lily advanced towards a crumbling coffee shop, while Marlene, Dedalus, and Sturgis walked over to assist a group of Aurors with defensive enchantments. Then, just as Dumbledore and Mr. Dearborn departed to help disperse the large group of terrified-looking Muggles milling outside the county hall, Sirius stepped out from behind Remus and took off running westward, towards the distant outline of the Westminster Bridge, obscured by a thick smog of smoke and debris.

"Padfoot," Remus panted, as he sprinted up the road after his friend, sidestepping several upturned, smoldering rubbish bins. "Sirius, for the love of— _slow down!_ Where the hell are you going?"

"I'm going to find her," Sirius snarled, blasting a broken lamp post out of his way with his wand as he continued to race up the pavement. "And I'm going to kill her. _Reducto._ " He blasted another fallen lamp post into fine dust.

"Sirius—stop—you're supposed to be fixing things—not destroying them," Remus admonished breathlessly, barely keeping pace with his friend as they wove through crowds of mingled Aurors, Obliviators, and Muggles. "And you're _not_ going to _kill_ anyone—are you _mad?_ We're supposed to be rescuing people—!"

"I don't give a damn what we're _supposed to do_ , Remus," Sirius spat, his face blazing with anger as he rounded on Remus. Remus froze in his tracks, heart skittering. "These bastards aren't following the bloody rules—why the hell should we?"

Remus gaped at Sirius. "Padfoot—you aren't _actually_ suggesting that we stoop to their level—?"

But that was as far as Remus got, for at that very moment, the air exploded with countless jets of multicolored light, and the world was ripped apart.

Remus felt himself flying through the air, clutching his wand tightly to his chest as he landed several feet away on the road with a painful _thud_. Ignoring the raw pain jolting through his back and the stars flashing before his eyes, Remus staggered to his feet and picked his way through a rubble of broken glass and splintered wood, looking around for what—or who—had caused the explosion. He glanced upwards, and a chill stole over him. The Dark Mark had appeared in the sky, starkly green against the gloomy gray of the smoke that was still fogging up the air.

Heart pounding against his ribs, Remus swiveled around in a circle, frantically searching for Sirius's face amidst the disarray of debris, people, and smoke. "Padfoot!" he cried out, jogging up the street towards the bridge, which was now only a few feet away. "Sirius! _Sirius_ , where are you?"

No one responded, but Remus forced himself to believe that this was only because Sirius couldn't possibly hear him over the din of shouts and screams in the air. Curling his hands into fists, Remus squeezed past the thick mass of Aurors and Muggles huddled outside the entrance to the bridge, and sprinted onto the structure.

"Oi! You're not allowed on the bridge!" an Auror bellowed at Remus as he sped past. "We're trying to get everyone off so we can seal it!"

Remus ignored him, only quickening his pace. "Sirius!" he yelled again, ducking around several demolished, faintly smoking cars as he tore up the bridge. "SIRIUS!"

" _Sirius! Sirius!_ " cried a mocking voice from behind Remus. Whipping out his wand, he whirled around, his breath trapped in his throat, to find himself facing a tall, dark woman with long black hair, high cheekbones, and heavily-lidded eyes. Remus's heart stopped. Bellatrix Lestrange's striking resemblance to her cousin Sirius was uncanny, but where Sirius's classic good looks provided him with easygoing grace, Bellatrix's made her look…dangerous.

She leered at him, her dark eyes glittering with malevolence. "I'm afraid my dear cousin is a little… _occupied_ at the moment."

Remus lifted his wand higher, so that it was level with her chest. "What did you do to him?" he demanded, with more conviction than he felt.

"What do you care?" Bellatrix taunted, her thin lips twisting into an evil smile. "He'll be dead before you get to him."

Remus fired a Stinging Hex directly at Bellatrix's heart, but she deflected it with a casual flick of her wrist. Snarling, she sent a jet of blue flames towards Remus, but with a well-aimed slash of his wand, Remus changed the fire into a torrent of needle-sharp icicles and redirected it at Bellatrix. She disapparated to avoid it, reappearing about six yards to the right.

"Stop playing games with me, you stupid boy," Bellatrix spat, firing a streak of purple light at Remus's face. He leaped out of its way. "Unless you want to end up like my filthy blood traitor cousin."

"What did you do to him?" Remus asked again, his voice stronger this time, as he fired two Stunning Spells at her, one after another. "Answer me!"

Bellatrix smirked, sending both jets of red light streaking back towards Remus. He blocked them both. "I left him hanging on the brink of death," Bellatrix sneered. "I didn't want him to die too easily, you see—he doesn't deserve it."

Remus barred his teeth. " _Confringo!_ " he shouted.

Bellatrix dodged the Blasting Curse, her eyes flashing as she raised her wand and slashed it down. " _Crucio!_ "

Pain like none other ripped through Remus, as the jet of red light struck him squarely on the stomach. He screamed, falling forward and hitting his head on the concrete. His vision was blinded, his lungs felt like they were on fire—he choked on his own voice.

When the curse finally lifted, Remus found himself sprawled out at Bellatrix's feet, his wand shaking in his hand. Bellatrix's loud peal of laughter sounded far away, even as she leaned directly over him with her wand trained on his forehead, smirking. "Perhaps you and Sirius can have a double funeral," she hissed.

"Bellatrix!"

Bellatrix whirled around, and Remus, his body still thrumming with pain, turned to see a lean but broad-shouldered wizard with a pale, twisted face hurrying up the bridge towards them. "Bellatrix, ve must go! The Dark Lord commands us to retreat—the Order is closing in!"

Bellatrix made an impatient noise in her throat, turning back to look down at Remus with distaste. Her wand twitched in her hand. "Saved by the bell," she spat at Remus, before facing the broad-shouldered Death Eater. "Fine. Let's go, Dolohov."

"Who is this?" Dolohov asked, considering Remus suspiciously. "He is a… _oboroten_."

"A what?" Bellatrix demanded.

"Ve haf many of them in Moscow," Dolohov continued, narrowing his eyes at Remus. "Savage beasts—you see it in the scars. Vot is it you Brits call them? The wolf-men?"

" _Werewolf?_ " Bellatrix gasped, her face looming over Remus's again, her expression one of mingled shock and revulsion. "Why, you mangy _half-breed!_ I should kill you right now!"

"No," Dolohov interrupted irritably, suddenly clutching his left forearm and glaring at Bellatrix. "Ve must go. The Dark Lord calls. Ve will haf another chance to kill this scum."

Bellatrix gnashed her teeth at Remus, then spat on him. Taking care to tread on Remus's fingers as she stepped over him, Bellatrix disappeared with a _crack_. Dolohov followed.

Remus lay spread-eagled on the pavement for several, long minutes, every muscle in his body throbbing. Then, at last—with the greatest effort it had ever cost him—he managed to drag himself to his feet and stumble up the street.

"Sirius," Remus called, but his voice sounded frail and hoarse. "Sirius! Sirius—!"

Remus broke off, his heart constricting suddenly with dread. In the distance, barely visible through the thick gray haze of smoky residue, a body was dangling in midair by its ankle, revolving slowly in a circle.

 _"_ _I left him hanging on the brink of death."_

"SIRIUS!" Remus bellowed, forgetting all about his aching limbs as he flew up the bridge, towards the dangling body. "No! No—no—no, _Sirius!_ " Standing directly under Sirius's limp form, Remus raised his wand and thought wildly, _Liberacorpus_.

Sirius's body collapsed onto Remus, and, knees buckling, Remus dropped to the ground with Sirius sprawled out across his legs. Hand shaking, heart racing, mind numb with blank fear, Remus directed his wand at Sirius's chest. " _Rennervate_."

Nothing happened.

"No," Remus muttered. "No— _no_ —come _on_ , Padfoot. _Rennervate_. _Rennervate_." But Sirius remained stubbornly still and silent. Blindly, his heart lodged in his throat, Remus reached out and seized Sirius's wrist—and with an enormous, dizzying wave of relief, he felt a pulse—weak, and soft, and erratic, though it was, there was a definite pulse.

"Help!" Remus called out, looking frantically around for an Auror or a familiar face—but the bridge was empty. "Somebody—help me!"

Pulling out his wand, Remus lifted his shaking hand to the sky and shot a stream of red and gold sparks into the air. Barely a second later, there were two soft _pop_ s in the distance—and with a rush of gratefulness, Remus saw James and Lily—both looking disheveled, grimy, and distinctly worse for wear—appear a few yards down the bridge.

"Over here!" Remus called out to them, his voice breaking. James and Lily ran up road, both looking terrified.

" _Sirius!_ " James shouted as he reached them, dropping to his knees beside Remus, his already pale face draining completely of color. "What—no—Remus, is he—?"

"He's alive," Remus interrupted. "I've got a pulse. But he needs a Healer—I can't revive him."

"Let's get him to Elinor Bones. She'll sort him out," Lily said in a strained voice, conjuring a stretcher with a wave of her wand. Together, James and Remus heaved Sirius onto it.

"We've got to get off the bridge," James told Remus, as the two of them began jogging behind Lily and the stretcher. "The Aurors were about to seal it so no one can apparate in or out—Lily and I barely made it to you. Dumbledore's set up an apparition point just beyond—hey—mate, are you all right?" James paused suddenly in his tracks and looked at Remus. "What happened to your head?"

Remus reached up and touched his throbbing forehead, and his fingers came into contact with a great deal of half-dried blood. "I hit it," he said under his breath.

James's jaw clenched. "How?"

Remus looked at James for a moment. Then— "Bellatrix," he muttered.

James swore loudly, and Lily looked at him over her shoulder; she was several yards ahead, now, with the stretcher. "What?" she demanded. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Remus told Lily quickly, giving James a significant look as the two of them hastened to catch up with her. "We can talk about this later," Remus said quietly to James. "Right now, we need to focus on Sirius."

James nodded, but his mouth was set in a thin line that told Remus quite plainly that he wasn't ready to drop the subject.

They hurried down the bridge in tense silence for several minutes. Then—

"It's odd," James said slowly, "how quickly they all disappeared—the Death Eaters, I mean. Lily and I were dueling Voldemort, and—"

"You were dueling _Voldemort?_ " Remus gasped, looking around at James in shock.

"Yeah," James said grimly. "And that bastard can duel. It was us and the Longbottoms—he was dueling all four of us at the same time. But then, all of a sudden, he disapparated—and just like that, all of the Death Eaters were gone, too. Uncle Caradoc was dueling that Travers bloke, and he told me Travers suddenly just grabbed his own arm and disappeared."

Remus frowned at James, his mind racing. "He grabbed his…" Remus trailed off. Then, he gasped. "His arm! Dolohov touched his arm when he—and Bellatrix just—that's it! They've got something there—some way of communicating with each other!"

James stared at Remus, looking gobsmacked. "What on Earth are you—?"

"James!" Lily cried suddenly, stopping short in her tracks, several feet in front of James and Remus. "James, he's waking up!"

Without even pausing to exchange a fleeting glance, James and Remus turned simultaneously and sprinted down the bridge towards Lily and Sirius. Panting, they came to stand on either side of the levitated stretcher.

"Sirius?" James asked anxiously. "Are you—?"

"I missed it," Sirius mumbled, without opening his eyes. His face was screwed up in pain, and his words slurred slightly. "I missed…I missed it…"

"What did you miss?" Remus asked tensely. "What are you talking about, Padfoot?"

"I…missed it," Sirius said again, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I missed…the funeral."

"Wh-what?" Remus stammered, exchanging frightened looks with James and Lily. "Whose—whose funeral?"

"Reg," Sirius gasped, his eyes shooting open. He tried to sit bolt upright in his stretcher, but Lily held him down, her chin trembling. "I missed it—I missed it, I missed his funeral! Bella told me— _I missed it!_ "

"Sirius," James gasped, looking lost for words. "Mate—please—you've got to calm down—"

"I missed it!" Sirius howled, his face turning ashen. "He was only eighteen, James—and I— _damn it_ , I missed it! I missed it—!" He broke off and his body began shaking violently.

"He's going into shock," Lily cried, looking on the verge of tears as she raised her wand and urged the stretcher forward again. "We've got to get him out of here— _now!_ "

James and Remus didn't need telling twice. Wands out, they sprinted ahead of Lily and began clearing a path through the debris that littered every inch of the bridge. At last, a few minutes later, they made it back to the main road, where Remus quickly spotted Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Dearborn standing with Frank and Alice Longbottom. Upon seeing Sirius in the stretcher, the four of them rushed forward. Dimly, Remus heard Dumbledore giving Lily the address to Edgar and Elinor's house in Upper Flagley…he heard Mr. Dearborn frantically asking James what had happened…but Remus was busy staring back at the outline of the bridge they had just crossed—at the smoke billowing up from its center, clogging up what ought to have been a clear, blue sky…

Broken images filled Remus's mind…a four-year-old boy lying unconscious in his parents' bed after being mauled by a werewolf…an eleven-year-old boy on his first day of Hogwarts, shocked and delighted to find himself making friends after growing up in near-isolation…a different eleven-year-old boy, on the same day, ecstatic to be meeting half-bloods and blood traitors for the very first time…a sixteen-year-old boy, pale-faced and shivering, standing on his best friend's porch after running away from home…a sixteen-year-old girl, humiliated in front of half the school by a boy she had thought to be her friend…

 _"_ _Why, you mangy_ half-breed! _I should kill you right now!"_

 _"_ _I missed it—I missed it, I missed his funeral!"_

 _"I don't need help from filthy little mudbloods like her!"_

 _It was Voldemort_ , Remus thought to himself, curling his hands into fists as he gazed up at the fading remains of the Dark Mark in the sky. It all came down to Voldemort. It was Voldemort who had caused so much suffering, spreading his hatred and bigoted beliefs. It was Voldemort who had ripped so many families apart…who had created and unleashed monsters like Bellatrix Lestrange…

It was Voldemort that Remus would fight, and fight again—every day for the rest of his life, if he had to—because he would be damned if he allowed yet another generation to grow up in the same world that he had.

Gripping his wand tightly, Remus raised it skyward. " _Lumos expulsa_ ," he murmured, and a tiny spark of light floated out of the tip of his wand and spun high into the clouds, leaving a hole in the fading Dark Mark as it passed through it.

* * *

Author's Note:

Phew. I think I lost track of how many times I rewrote this chapter. I still don't know if I'm completely satisfied with how it turned out, but I think I'm going to go crazy if I make any more changes.

In other news though, 'Human Spirit' has surpassed 10,000 views! Thank you all so, so much for your support and readership.

Love,  
Ari


	30. Tidings

31 December 1979

Of all the New Year's Eves that Remus could remember, this easily ranked as one of the gloomiest. It seemed to Remus that this Order meeting had been going on for hours. At first, it had just been waiting for everyone to arrive. Nearly every single member of the Order was in attendance this evening, with the exception of one reconnaissance team (consisting of Peter, Frank and Alice Longbottom, and Hagrid) that was off investigating a potential Death Eater hideout in Salisbury.

Moody had showed up forty-five minutes late to the meeting—which would have been normal if not for the fact that he had arrived at the Hog's Head's upper room with a deep scarlet gash on his right cheek. Apparently, he had been hot on the trail of a group of Death Eaters, and had managed to track them all the way to a Muggle neighborhood in Cheshire. Unfortunately, when Moody had confronted them, all had fled, with the exception of one—Severus Snape. The pair had proceeded to engage in a vicious duel, and Snape had only just barely escaped Moody's wand. Moody was livid that he hadn't managed to capture him.

But as it turned out, the duel hadn't been completely in vain. Halfway through the fight, one of Moody's Stinging Hexes had grazed the left sleeve of Snape's robes, ripping it off and confirming, at long last, the existence of something that the Order had been speculating about ever since the Westminster attack in September: inter-Death Eater communication. After having his cheek mended by Lily, Moody had revealed to everyone at the meeting table that he had spotted a large, tattoo-like symbol on Snape's left forearm, in the exact shape of the Mark that Death Eaters shot into the sky in the aftermath of their attacks. This monumental revelation had shocked and horrified everyone at the table, with the exception of Professor Dumbledore, who had been unsurprised to hear it.

"Voldemort is a megalomaniac," Dumbledore had explained in a voice that had caused the hairs on Remus's neck to stand on end. "He sees his Death Eaters as possessions, and brands them accordingly. Entering Voldemort's service is for life—you belong to him, and to him, only."

An uneasy pause had followed Dumbledore's words, lingering heavily in the atmosphere, until, finally, Professor McGonagall had cleared her throat and announced that it was time for the different reconnaissance teams to present their latest findings to the rest of the Order. With that, the meeting had officially begun, and for nearly two hours, Remus had found himself listening to countless status reports on the tailings of both known and suspected Death Eaters.

At the moment, Dedalus Diggle and Sturgis Podmore, the last reconnaissance team, were addressing the table. Using their combined contacts at the Department of International Magical Cooperation, the two had inferred the existence of a new Death Eater—a foreigner by the name of Igor Karkaroff, who seemed to be in league with Antonin Dolohov.

"…The two hail from the same magical community in Moscow," Sturgis was saying. "And based on records I secured from an ally at Durmstrang Institute, it seems Dolohov and Karkaroff overlapped in their schooling by two years. It's likely no coincidence that the pair have been spotted together."

"We're aware that it isn't concrete intelligence," Dedalus admitted, looking at Dumbledore. "Not enough, perhaps, to confirm his allegiance to You-Know-Who—but I say we add him to the list of possible supporters all the same."

A crease appeared between Dumbledore's brows and he steepled his fingers under his chin. "I agree with your conclusions, gentlemen, though it concerns me that Voldemort continues to extend his influence beyond our borders." He paused, considering Sturgis and Dedalus thoughtfully. "I believe our foreign contacts will be of utmost importance, now more than ever—we must attempt to curb Voldemort's reach before it travels any farther."

Sturgis and Dedalus nodded, exchanging a somber look, and a pall seemed to settle over the group. Remus swallowed heavily, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lily take James's hand under the table.

Then, Dumbledore's expression relaxed and he smiled around at the table. "Excellent efforts, everyone. I think, if that is all, we may conclude this meeting. Alastor?"

"Aye, let's call it a night," Moody grunted in agreement.

Dumbledore nodded. "Very well. Goodbye, everyone. Travel safely—and I wish you and your families peace and happiness in the New Year."

There was a murmured chorus of "Happy New Year" from the occupants of the room, and then, the knot of people seated at the dingy meeting table disbanded. One by one, Order members rose to their feet, either making their way directly towards the staircase down to the pub or else stopping to exchange rushed goodbyes. In the spirit of New Year's Eve, the Prewett twins had bought a bottle of champagne from Aberforth Dumbledore downstairs and were now handing champagne flutes to people as they left.

Yawning and stretching, Remus climbed to his feet. Next to him, James, Lily, and Sirius rose from their chairs as well.

"We've got half-an-hour until we've got to be at my parents'," James announced, checking his wristwatch.

Remus nodded, then shook his head in amazement. "It seems unbelievable that we're heading to a New Year's party after a meeting like that, doesn't it?"

James snorted. "Trust me, nothing short of impending death could prevent Fleamont and Euphemia Potter from ringing in the New Year with half of Wizarding Britain," he said, and Sirius laughed.

"I think it's nice," Lily said softly, resting her head on James's shoulder. "We could all do with some hope for the future right now."

"Champagne, mates?"

Remus looked up. Fabian Prewett had arrived with a tray of champagne flutes.

Remus smiled, reaching out and accepting one. James and Sirius followed suit—but Lily declined. Fabian quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Lily, no one has refused a drink with me since last Christmas, when my dear auntie Muriel told me she'd rather die of thirst than accept a glass of wine from a scruffy-looking scumbag like myself," Fabian quipped. "Mysteriously enough, she spent the rest of the evening burping slugs into her purse."

Lily blinked, her mouth falling open. Next to her, Sirius snickered.

"I—uhm—a-all right, then," Lily stammered, reaching out and taking a glass from the tray, eyes wide. "Er—thanks."

"Cheers," Fabian winked at her. Then, he walked off to offer drinks to Edgar Bones and Benjy Fenwick, who were conversing with Mr. Dearborn by the fireplace.

"Hey—Lupin. Happy New Year."

Remus turned around. Marlene McKinnon was smiling warmly at him from the top of the staircase, where she was buttoning up her traveling cloak. Remus returned her smile, walking over to greet her.

"Happy New Year to you, too," he told her.

Marlene opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it again, her expression suddenly sad. "I know there's a full moon the day after tomorrow," she said in a low voice. "So, I…I just wanted to say…stay safe."

Remus's jaw tightened slightly, but he continued to smile at her. "Thank you. That means a lot."

It had been more than three months, now, since the entire Order had been notified of Remus's lycanthropy, but Remus was still adjusting to the change. It was Dumbledore who had suggested telling everyone, after Remus had told him about his nasty encounter with Antonin Dolohov and Bellatrix Lestrange during the Westminster attack. Dumbledore had been greatly troubled by the idea of Voldemort's supporters possessing knowledge about an Order member that the majority of the Order itself didn't have—and so, after ensuring Remus's permission, he had explained Remus's condition to the Order during a subsequent meeting.

Most everyone had taken the information in stride, though perhaps merely out of respect for Dumbledore. Emmeline Vance and Dorcas Meadowes certainly seemed warier around Remus, and Sturgis Podmore no longer looked him in the eye during conversations. But the Prewetts and the Longbottoms were, if anything, even warmer towards Remus, now—and Marlene McKinnon went out of her way to express support for him. Remus suspected that, as a Muggle-born like Lily, Marlene's perspective on Wizarding prejudices was largely shaped by her own negative experiences with them.

Fastening the last of the buttons on her traveling cloak, Marlene stepped forward and gave Remus a hug. "Happy New Year," she said again, patting his back softly. "I hope it's a good one."

Remus swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, and Marlene drew back, smiling at him as she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. With another wave, she ducked down the pub staircase and out of sight. Remus watched her leave. The leaden weight in his chest—which had been growing in size all evening—felt heavier than ever.

With a deep sigh, Remus turned back around and went to join his friends by the meeting table, where they were all collecting their own cloaks and belongings.

"I just sent a Patronus to Wormtail telling him to meet us directly at my parents' place," James told Remus as he approached. "Uncle Caradoc reckons we should head over there as soon as we can—my mum could probably use help setting up."

Remus nodded, depositing his now-empty champagne flute on the meeting table and snatching up his cloak from the back of his chair. As he swung his cloak over his shoulders, he noticed that Lily's champagne glass—which she had just set down on the table between James's and Sirius's empty ones—was still untouched.

Raising his eyebrows, he looked at Lily. "Have you developed an allergy to champagne, Lily?" Remus asked her amusedly.

Lily rolled her eyes at him. "No," she said. "I'm just…not in the mood for a drink at the moment."

"Oh, for Godric's sake," Sirius snorted, picking up Lily's champagne flute and holding it expectantly to her face. "Evans, I know you're married and all, but you're _nineteen_. I swear, sometimes, you act like a bloody middle-aged mum."

Remus elbowed Sirius in the ribs, shooting him a disapproving look. But Sirius didn't look at Remus—he was too busy frowning disconcertedly at Lily. Bewildered, Remus turned to look at her, too—and his eyebrows shot up his forehead. Her face had turned nearly as red as her hair. And next to her, James was sporting an expression appropriate to having been clubbed over the head.

For several minutes, the four of them just stared at one another.

Then, slowly—as Remus's gaze darted from Lily's maroon face, to James's wide eyes, and then back to the still-full glass of champagne in Sirius's hand—comprehension dawned.

"Bloody hell," Remus croaked. Both Lily's and James's gazes snapped onto him at once. "Lily—are you—?"

" _Shh_ ," Lily hushed him fiercely, her face going—if possible—redder.

"What?" Sirius demanded, looking indignantly from Lily to Remus. "What is it—?"

" _Think_ , Padfoot," Remus told him impatiently, gesturing at the glass of champagne he was still holding in front of Lily. "Think about what you _just_ said to her."

Sirius stared down at the champagne in bewilderment for several moments. Then, he looked up at Lily. And then, at long last, his gaze flickered down to rest somewhere near her stomach.

With an earsplitting clatter, the champagne flute slipped out of Sirius's hands and fell to the dingy wooden floor, shattering into a million tiny pieces.

" _Sirius_ ," Remus hissed angrily, whipping out his wand and hastily vanishing the mess. Looking around, he found that the meeting room was now—thankfully—almost empty. Only Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Mr. Dearborn were still standing by the fireplace, reviewing some Ministry documents. At the moment, however, they were staring at Remus, Sirius, and the Potters in confusion. Remus gave them a strained, apologetic smile. "Sorry—dropped a glass."

They all raised their eyebrows, but then, mercifully, returned to their conversation. Remus released the breath that he hadn't known he was holding, turning back to his friends. Sirius, whose complexion was now as gray as his eyes, was sputtering incoherently at Lily and James.

"No way," he said in a low, strangled voice. "No _way_."

"Sirius, shut up," James admonished, casting a nervous, backward glance at his uncle and former professors. "She's only two months in—we haven't even told my _parents_ yet."

"But—you—" Sirius spluttered. " _How_ —?"

"Do you need me to draw you a diagram?" Lily snapped, crossing her arms and giving him an annoyed look. Sirius made a choking sound in the back of his throat, and Lily's nostrils flared. She looked at James. "I'm starting to regret agreeing to name him godfather," she said sardonically.

"So am I, a bit," James agreed, raising his eyebrows at Sirius. Sirius's jaw had gone completely slack at the word "godfather."

Remus shook his head slowly, reaching out and gripping James's shoulder. "I can't believe this," he whispered.

Lily looked around and met his gaze, her eyes suddenly swimming with tears. "It's horrible timing, isn't it?" she asked tremulously. "I mean, with everything going on—the Order, the war—we…we didn't plan for this at all."

"N-no—Lily, I didn't mean—I think it's brilliant," Remus told Lily hoarsely, and she gave him a hesitant, watery smile. "Really, truly brilliant."

"Yeah," Sirius said faintly, apparently having found his voice at last. He gaped at James and Lily with a mixture of shock and awe. "Blimey…a baby…"

James grinned at Sirius. Then, wrapping an arm around Lily, he bent and gently kissed her temple. "Yeah," he said softly. "A baby."

Lily wiped her eyes with her sleeves, looking up at James and beaming at him as though he were all she could ever wish for in the world. And as Remus watched them, his heart swelling with emotion, he felt the leaden weight in his chest dissolve slightly—and he was suddenly struck by how extraordinary it was, that in the midst of so much sorrow, and grief, and the horrible news that was becoming more and more commonplace each day—death, devastation, Dark Marks—his friends had created something that could withstand it all, filling Remus with a brilliant, blazing hope that had seemed utterly impossible, just minutes earlier.

"Hello, everyone—terribly sorry for the delay," James's uncle Caradoc said breathlessly, suddenly appearing at the meeting table with his cloak slung over his shoulder. Remus jumped, looking around; Dumbledore and McGonagall had just gathered their possessions and disappeared down the pub stairs. "You can all blame me when my sister castigates us for tardiness," Mr. Dearborn chuckled, his bushy gray beard bristling into a grin. Looking around at the group, his smiled slipped slightly as he took in their pensive expressions and the tear tracks still glittering on Lily's cheeks. "Oh, dear—what's happened?" he asked worriedly. "Is everything all right?"

Lily nodded, hastily wiping her cheeks, and James smiled reassuringly at his uncle. "We'll be fine," he said—and for the first time in a long time, Remus believed it.

* * *

Author's Note:

I meant to post this chapter on July 31, but I completely forgot! Happy belated birthday, Harry Potter. You may have been born in the zenith of wartime, but you were a light in the darkness for so many, and you continue to be. :)

Ari


	31. Hope

6 March 1980

"We're _so_ very sorry for your loss, Remus," Mrs. Waterston said, her eyes bright with tears. "Your mother was a darling, delightful woman. I always looked forward to seeing her at the market."

"She will be sorely missed," agreed Mr. Waterston gruffly next to his wife, rubbing her back comfortingly.

Remus gave the Waterstons the most grateful smile he could muster—it made his stiff cheek muscles ache. "Thank you," he told them. "And thank you so much for the casserole, Mrs. Waterston," he added politely, holding up the chicken casserole that a sobbing Mrs. Waterston had pressed into his arms the moment he'd opened the front door to Shell Cottage. "My dad will really appreciate this."

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Waterston sniffed heartily, leaning up and giving Remus a wet kiss on the cheek. "You take care, now—and please give your father our best."

"I will," Remus promised, raising a hand in farewell as the elderly Muggle couple stepped off the cottage's front porch and made their way down the winding garden path to their car. Remus waited until he heard the engine rev and the soft puttering of the car's tires as it trudged along the sandy, cliffside road down to the village. Then, swallowing, he turned and walked back into the house, nudging the front door shut behind him.

"The Waterstons dropped off a casserole," Remus said, walking into the sitting room, where his father was tucked into his armchair by the fireplace with an old book, looking frail and exhausted.

He looked up from his book at Remus's entrance, his expression rather blank. "Who?" he asked faintly.

"The Waterstons," Remus repeated. "From the village—they own the market where Mum always bought groceries, remember?"

"Ah," Dad blinked, nodding, but Remus knew that he hadn't registered a word. "And—what…what did they want?"

Remus stared at his father, his stomach clenching painfully. "To offer their condolences, Dad," he said quietly. "And to drop off a casserole." He raised the platter up higher so his father could see it. "I…I'm going to put it in the kitchen under a Cooling Charm with the rest, all right?"

Dad gave Remus a grateful smile, though his eyes remained frighteningly vacant. "That's wonderful, Remus," he murmured. "Thank you."

Remus nodded, pressing his lips together as he slipped past his father's armchair and into the cottage's small kitchen. Setting the casserole down on the counter, Remus drew his wand.

" _Glacius_ ," he muttered, waving his wand over the platter—and a gust of cool blue light blew out of the tip, settling into the dish.

Putting down his wand and scooping up the now-refrigerating plate, Remus reached up and wrenched open one of the cupboards above the stove. It was practically overflowing with relatively untouched casseroles. Shaking his head, Remus slid the Waterstons' casserole onto the top shelf, then reached out and withdrew a small plate of steak and kidney pie—a gift from the village deacon and his wife—from the corner of the bottom shelf. Casting a quick Warming Charm over the dish, Remus grabbed a knife and fork from the cutlery drawer and made his way back into the sitting room.

"Here, Dad," Remus murmured, setting the plate and utensils down on the small end table at the foot of his father's armchair. Dad lowered his book, staring down at the food as though he'd never seen anything like it before. "Supper," Remus explained, and Dad's expression relaxed slightly with comprehension.

Sliding his book under the end table, Dad picked up the plate and looked up at Remus. "Will you stay the night? Your old room is just the way you left it."

"Oh—no, Dad," Remus shook his head. "I ought to be getting home soon. I…I'll come back around to see you tomorrow morning, I promise."

Dad nodded, swallowing a mouthful of pie. "Do you have to work tonight?"

"Er—yeah," Remus lied, his stomach twisting with guilt. In reality, Dumbledore had graciously excused Remus from Order meetings and missions for the next few weeks—but how could Remus tell his father that the real reason he didn't want to stay over was because he didn't think he could spend another minute in Shell Cottage without losing his mind?

"It's been busy today, hasn't it?"

Remus startled, looking at his father. "What?"

"It's been busy today," Dad repeated, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with his handkerchief. "Lots of visitors."

"Oh," Remus blinked, vaguely surprised. He hadn't thought his father had even noticed the endless stream of mourners and sympathizers that had been flooding their front porch since the burial on Monday. "Er—yeah, there were quite a few today. Not as many as yesterday though." Remus paused, fiddling with a speck of lint on his faded, shabby jumper. "I'm pretty sure every resident of Tinworth will have come to pay their respects before the end of the week."

A small smile lifted the corner of Dad's mouth—one of the first Remus had seen all week that actually reached his eyes. "Everyone loved her," Dad said softly.

Remus's throat stung. He blinked quickly and looked away. "Yeah, they did," he said quietly. "And she loved them back."

Dad nodded, setting his fork and knife down on his empty plate. With a flick of his wand, Remus banished them to the sink.

"Well," Remus cleared his throat, straightening his shoulders. "I…I reckon I should head out before it gets dark. Do you need me to do anything else?"

"No—don't worry about me, son," Dad said, shaking his head. "I'll be just fine."

Remus nodded, wishing he could believe him. "Don't forget to set the protective wards before you go to bed—or would you like me to set them before I leave—?"

"I'll take care of them," Dad assured him. "You focus on taking care of yourself."

Remus blinked, swallowing the sharp twinge in his throat. "All right," he said softly. "Bye, Dad. See you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Dad murmured.

* * *

The sky was almost indigo when Remus finally plodded up the outdoor staircase to his small, snug Diagon Alley flat. As he neared the front door, he fumbled inside his jumper pocket and closed his finger around his keys.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the door. He could feel the dull, paralyzing grief that he had been fighting off since Sunday creeping over him, and he stiffened and closed his eyes, tightening his grip on his keys.

 _"_ _Cheer up, sunshine boy. Moping about has never done anyone any good, you know."_

Remus let out a low, strangled noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, sagging against the weight of the front door as tears stung his eyes. But just then, he heard something rustle on the staircase behind him, and he gasped, whirling around and drawing his wand in a flash.

With a soft _pop_ , Lily's Disillusionment Charm lifted, and she stepped out from the shadows of the stairs, her arms raised in surrender.

"Remus—it's me," she said quietly.

"Lily?" Remus croaked. But he didn't lower his wand. "What did Sirius tell you and James to name your baby the last time we were all together, and why?"

Lily snorted, and even through the darkness of the night, Remus was sure that she was rolling her eyes. "Elvendork," she said dryly, putting a hand to her just barely showing stomach and patting it gently. "Because it's unisex."

Remus lowered his wand. " _Lumos_ ," he muttered, and his wand tip shone, illuminating the front stoop of his flat in bright white light. Lily's face was suddenly thrown into sharp relief against the dark, gloomy-looking Diagon Alley street behind her—and Remus saw her expression clearly for the first time. It was filled with concern for him.

"Oh, Remus," she whispered, stepping forward and drawing him into a warm hug.

Remus closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, grateful for the contact—it seemed to dispel some of his numb exhaustion.

"Come on," he muttered, pulling back after a few moments and fumbling for his keys again. "Let's get inside—it's not a good idea to loiter out here."

Five minutes later, Remus and Lily were safely seated inside the sitting room of Remus's flat. Of course, technically, the flat belonged to James and Lily—as they were the ones paying the monthly rent installments—but both Potters became supremely annoyed every time Remus brought up this fact, so over the past year, Remus had finally begun to think of the flat as his own. He hadn't done much in the way of decorating—being a full-time member of the Order didn't often allow him the luxury of time—but there were a few homey adjustments, here and there: a secondhand carriage clock from Dervish and Banges on the mantel, a ratty green oriental rug under the coffee table, and a couple Gryffindor banners from his Hogwarts days pinned around the sitting room walls.

As Lily leaned back against the living room sofa, rubbing her stomach, Remus saw her gaze come to rest on the large cardboard box sitting on top of his coffee table. The words _'HOPE MARIE HOWELL'_ were emblazoned across the top of the box in Remus's mother's elegant, calligraphic handwriting. Swallowing, Remus coughed to get Lily's attention, and she tore her eyes away from the box to meet his.

"D'you want anything to drink?" Remus asked her quietly. "Water? Pumpkin juice?"

"I'm all right," Lily shook her head, patting her belly. "If I drink anything too close to bedtime, _this_ one—" she nodded at her stomach, "—punishes me by sending me to the bathroom at least a dozen times during the night."

"Ah," Remus grinned slightly in spite of himself, shaking his head. "I see Elvendork is already taking after Daddy."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Don't listen to your uncle Moony, sweetheart," she whispered to her stomach. "You're going to be Mummy's favorite."

Remus's smile faltered, his throat burning again. Swallowing heavily, he averted his gaze from Lily's—but her sharp green eyes didn't waver.

"Remus…" she began softly.

Remus glanced up. "How'd you find out?" he asked hoarsely.

"Peter," Lily murmured, rubbing her stomach again. "James and Sirius are furious with you, by the way, for not telling them yourself. And quite frankly, so am I."

Remus closed his eyes. "Lily, the three of you have got enough to be going on with right now without worrying about me, between the baby and now Mr. and Mrs. Potter…" he trailed off, looking at Lily, and for a moment, neither of them spoke, as the horrible reality that James's kind and loving parents would likely never meet their grandchild hung heavily in the air between them.

Remus cleared his throat. "How are they?" he asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

Lily sighed, looking down at her lap. "Not well," she said quietly. "I mean, with Dragon Pox at their age—the chances are…" her voice caught, and she swallowed. "James and Sirius are with them right now—and so is Caradoc. They…they're trying to settle their affairs—finalizing their wills, freeing their house elves. The Healers think they've got…a few more weeks, at most."

"I'm sorry," Remus whispered.

Lily shrugged her shoulders, smiling weakly. "I suppose plenty of children grow up never meeting their grandparents, right?"

Remus nodded. "I did."

" _Oh_ ," Lily gasped, her eyes filling suddenly with tears as she looked up and met Remus's gaze. "Oh—God—Remus—I'm so, _so_ sorry about your mum. I—I know how close you were to her. If you need anything— _anything_ —you know you can come to me and James. Our grief doesn't make yours _any_ less important to us, you know that."

Remus nodded, releasing a slow, deep breath. "Thanks, Lily," he said softly. "I…I'll be fine, I promise."

"You don't look fine," Lily said stubbornly, crossing her arms and frowning seriously at him. "When was the last full moon?"

Remus gave a strangled laugh, shaking his head. "Now, you _sound_ like my mum."

At this, Lily cracked a tiny smile. "Well, I'm supposed to be practicing, aren't I?" she asked, pointing at her stomach, and Remus snorted. "Was…was it sudden?" Lily continued in a whisper. "It…it seems like it was sudden—you never mentioned anything about her being ill."

"She wasn't ill," Remus shook his head, swallowing heavily. "It was a heart attack—she…she died in her sleep. The village doctor thinks maybe her heart weakened with age, but she wasn't old either—she was barely fifty."

Remus didn't tell Lily the conclusion he had arrived at on Monday evening, after he and his father had laid his mother to rest in the parish church's graveyard. It had taken several glasses of Firewhisky at Tinworth's Crossed Wands Pub for Remus to see the truth, but he had seen it in the end: It wasn't age that had weakened Hope's heart, but rather fifteen years of constant worry for her only son.

"How's your dad doing?" Lily's gentle voice brought Remus out of his reverie, and he blinked, looking at her.

"He's…coping," Remus said, a lump swelling in his throat as he thought of his father, lying alone in his bed at Shell Cottage. "For all their—for everything they went through together, they…they never loved each other any less. I don't…I don't think he knows what to do without her. She was everything to him."

Lily nodded, sniffing, as two fat tears slipped out of her eyes and down her cheeks. "Oh, for _Merlin's_ sake," she said impatiently, swiping roughly at her eyes. "I'm sorry about the waterworks—I'm not always such a blubbering idiot. It's the pregnancy, I swear."

Remus laughed hoarsely. "You know, Lily, in a few more months, you're going to have to stop blaming everything on that poor child."

"Oh, let me enjoy it while I can," Lily groaned, pressing her back against the sofa cushions and propping her feet up on the coffee table. Her eyes fell again on the large cardboard box. "What's in the box?" she asked Remus curiously.

Remus hesitated. "Some of my mum's things," he murmured finally. "Her rings, some photos, and her gramophone and record collection, I reckon. I dunno—I…I haven't opened it yet. My dad gave it to me on Monday."

Lily's face had perked up. "Record collection?" she asked eagerly.

Remus smiled. "My mum loved music. I think she took me to every record store in London when I was a kid."

"Wow," Lily whispered, reaching forward and gently touching the box, tracing her fingers over the word ' _HOPE._ ' "That's amazing."

Remus nodded, swallowing heavily as he stared at the box. Then, he glanced at Lily. "D'you want to open it?" he asked quietly.

She raised her eyebrows. "Only if you do."

"I reckon I should," Remus sighed. "It's collecting dust." He climbed to his feet, stretching. "I'm going to go make myself a cup of tea. You can start going through it—I'll join you in a second."

"All right," Lily nodded, pulling out her wand so that she could open the box without damaging it. "And—er—Remus, I know I said no to something to drink before, but—"

"Pumpkin juice," Remus nodded, already heading for the kitchen. "You've got it."

"And some chocolate, too, if you've got any," Lily called after him, and Remus smiled, rolling his eyes. "Elvendork and I can appreciate a good slab of Honeydukes' finest at all hours of the day."

In the kitchen, Remus quickly poured Lily a glass of pumpkin juice and found a bar of caramel-stuffed Honeydukes chocolate in the cupboard. Then, he set the tea kettle on the stove.

"Remus, your mother was _beautiful_ ," Lily's voice floated into the kitchen from the sitting room. "Oh, this wedding photo is _gorgeous_ —she and your dad look so happy."

Remus smiled, fishing inside a drawer for a teabag. He had heard the story of his parents' relationship hundreds of times growing up. It had been one of his mother's favorite bedtime stories to tell—right down to the Boggart-shaped wedding cake topper.

"Remus, your mum was a Beatles fan!" Lily exclaimed from the sitting room, plainly thrilled. "Oh, _wow_ , I haven't heard these songs in _years_."

The tea kettle began to sing. With a flick of his wand, Remus sent the kettle whizzing to the tea service, where it tipped over and poured its contents into the teapot. Then, balancing the tea service, pumpkin juice, and chocolate bar in his arms, Remus made his way back into the sitting room, where he found Lily—her face flushed with excitement—kneeling in front of the coffee table. Remus's mother's expansive music collection, consisting easily of hundreds of different records, was spread out all around her.

"Here's your juice and chocolate," Remus told Lily, setting them down on the floor next to her, before he knelt down beside her with his tea. "What're you looking at?"

"Music," Lily murmured distractedly, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she considered a large black record sleeve. "What record is this?" she asked Remus, holding it up to his face. "It hasn't got any writing on it."

Remus blinked, drawing back and staring at it. "Er—she might have gotten it secondhand," Remus shrugged. "Why don't you try putting it on?" He nodded at his mother's dusty old gramophone, which was peeking out of the cardboard box.

Lily brightened. "Good idea," she said, scrambling onto her knees and carefully hefting the large gramophone out of its box. "Remus, I hope you know that your mum's record collection is _priceless_. Seriously, if you don't listen to at least one of these records each day, I'll come here myself and play them for you…"

But Remus was only half-listening to her, now. Out of the corner of his eye, he had spotted the wedding photograph that Lily had been admiring earlier—and next to the photograph, was a small black ring box. Slowly and gingerly, Remus reached out and picked up the box, unclasping it to find two rings—a diamond engagement ring and a golden wedding band. He gently brushed his finger over the diamond.

"…gramophone doesn't seem to be working," Lily was saying, her tone upset. " _Oh_ —never mind, I see what the problem is…"

Hands shaking now, Remus set down the ring box and carefully reached for the wedding photograph of his parents. Immediately, his eyes burned with tears. They were so young—their faces completely free of lines. Mum's long, shining blond hair was fuller than Remus had ever seen it in life—there was not a streak of gray to be found. And her eyes—the same green-brown eyes that she had passed on to her son—were alive with a kind of happiness that Remus was sure he would never know or understand himself…

"I got it!" Lily exclaimed jubilantly, and Remus glanced up at her, startled. "I got it to work—the gramophone, I mean. Now, let's see what this mysterious record is…"

Very cautiously, Lily withdrew the record from its black sleeve and placed it in the gramophone. Then, she tapped the knobs with her wand, and she and Remus both leaned forward to listen.

It took several moments for the music to begin. Those first few scratchy seconds that always preceded the start of a record seemed to last a little longer than they usually did, and Remus closed his eyes against the heavy pangs of nostalgia in his chest, as he remembered the constant presence of soft, scratchy gramophone music in his childhood. Then, at last, the low, twangy notes of bluesy violin began to fill the tiny sitting room, and Remus's breath became trapped in his throat as recognition struck him squarely in the stomach. Suddenly, it was sixteen years in the past, and Remus was four years old again, clutching his mother's hand as they navigated the teeming shelves of a secondhand record shop—and in the background, an old American folk song was crackling feebly from the gramophone on the clerk's counter…

 _"I want to buy that record," Mummy told the clerk, pointing at the record spinning in his personal gramophone._

 _"Sorry, ma'am—it's not for sale," the clerk told Remus's mother in a very regretful voice. He didn't seem to be able to take his eyes off her. Remus could understand that—Mummy always looked lovely when she listened to music. Her eyes lit up the whole room._

 _"Ah," Mummy nodded understandingly at the clerk. "It's a special one, isn't it?" The clerk nodded dumbly at her. "Well, how about this?" Mummy said, pulling out her purse. "I'll give you ten pounds—and I'll tell all my friends to shop here, too."_

 _The clerk looked like he'd forgotten how to speak. Two minutes later, Mummy and Remus left the store with the record safely in Mummy's purse._

 _"Why'd you use up all your money, Mummy?" Remus asked his mother curiously, swinging happily from her hand as they wove through the busy London street._

 _"Because it was special," Mummy said, smiling down at Remus and hugging him tightly to her side. "And when something is special to you, Remus, you'll do anything_ _to keep it close."_

 _Remus thought about this for a moment. Then, he looked back up at Mummy. "Am I special, Mummy?" he asked seriously._

 _Mummy laughed, and her bright brown eyes lit up her face, warming Remus from the inside. "_ You _are the most special thing in this world, sunshine boy."_

Remus didn't realize he was crying until he felt Lily's warm arms around him, and he felt his chest heaving with the effort to restrain his tears, which were soaking the front of her robes. Lily's arms tightened around him, gripping him so tightly that he could barely breathe—but he didn't care—he needed to know that she was real—that _he_ was real—because nothing about his life felt real anymore, with his mother gone forever. Remus squeezed his eyes shut, hearing his mother's voice in his ears, soft, and clear, and warm, as she sang, the same words that were stuttering feebly out of the gramophone on the coffee table…

 _"_ _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine_ … _You make me happy when skies are grey_ … _You'll never know, dear, how much I love you_ … _Please don't take my sunshine away_ … _"_

* * *

Author's Note:

I've never made myself cry writing before, but this chapter did it. I think it was the song. If you've been reading this story since the beginning, you might have forgotten the significance of this song to Remus's relationship with his mother. If you want a quick reminder, I suggest looking back at Chapters 2 and 3.

Love you all madly! Shout out to guest reviewer Mindy, whose compliments made my evening. :')

Hugs and chocolate,  
Ari


	32. Harry

31 July 1980

Remus glanced over his shoulder—an unshakable reflex that he had picked up over the past several months—as he reached the tall, dark hedge that marked the front garden of James and Lily's Godric's Hollow cottage. Once he had ensured that he wasn't being followed, Remus reached out and pushed open the little white garden gate, heading up the brick path to the front porch.

He felt the hum of protective enchantments in the air as he made his way up the path: anti-apparition wards, hex-deflection shields, repelling charms—all of which had been placed over the cottage in the weeks since James and Lily had decided to go into hiding. As Remus walked up the steps to the front porch, he glanced through the sitting room window. James had forgotten to draw the curtains, as usual, and Remus could see Sirius—clad in flannel pajama trousers and a black T-shirt—seated in the armchair by the fireplace, shaking his leg. His shaggy black hair was tousled in a way that made Remus certain that he'd been recently roused from bed.

Raising his hand, Remus knocked twice on the Potters' front door. Through the sitting room window, Remus saw Sirius jump up from the armchair, suddenly tense and alert. A second later, Remus heard footsteps in the foyer beyond the front door.

"Who is it?" Sirius demanded, his voice sharp. "Declare yourself."

"It's Remus John Lupin," Remus responded. "Also known as Moony, I'm one of the four creators of the Marauder's Map, which is currently locked away in Filch's office because James left it in the Astronomy Tower during Head Boy patrols in the last week of our seventh year."

There was a series of clicks, then the door swung open and Sirius appeared in the frame, grinning.

"Nice of you to bring that up, tonight of all nights," Sirius said, ushering Remus into the foyer and shutting the front door behind him. "I swear, if James's kid doesn't find a way to get that map back one day, I'll surrender my own Marauder title for failure as a godfather."

Remus snorted with laughter. Just then, there was a clatter of footsteps from the nearby stairwell, as James—who, like Sirius, was wearing pajamas—appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his glasses lopsided and his wand pointed at Remus.

"It's him. I've already checked," Sirius assured James, who nodded, lowering his wand.

"Trust _your_ baby to pick the middle of the bloody night to make an appearance," Remus told James, smiling as he stepped forward and embraced his friend. "How's Lily doing?"

"All right, so far. Cried a bit about our parents not being here, but now she's mostly just swearing and threatening to curse me if I ever get her pregnant again," James said somewhat sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. "The contractions are still pretty far apart—Elinor says she's got some ways to go."

"Elinor Bones is here?" Remus asked, surprised.

"Yeah…with everything, we thought it would be safer for her to be the one to deliver the baby than a random midwife," James said, shrugging. "The fewer people outside the Order who know our address, the better."

Remus nodded, grimacing. Sirius shoved his hands in the pockets of his pajama bottoms, staring at the floor. For a moment, none of them spoke.

Then, Remus cleared his throat pointedly. "Er—shouldn't you get back upstairs and be with your wife?" he asked James, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh," James gave a little start, as though he'd only just remembered that his wife was, in fact, in labor a floor above them. "Right—yeah—I should go." But he waited for another moment, his expression strained and set. Then, he lowered his voice. "Can a baby be born with glasses?" he asked in a hushed, tense voice. "Or—oh, Merlin—what if it has _antlers_ or something—?"

" _James_ ," Remus rolled his eyes, as Sirius guffawed. "If you don't get upstairs right now, Lily will hex you so hard, you won't be able to have another child even if you want to."

James's jaw dropped, his hazel eyes growing very wide. Then, with a strangled noise in the back of his throat, he swiveled around and sprinted back up the staircase. Remus and Sirius exchanged a smirk, shaking their heads, before they simultaneously turned and made their way into the sitting room.

"So," Sirius said, settling back into the armchair by the fireplace. Remus, meanwhile, took a seat on the sofa. "What have you been up to tonight?"

Remus frowned. "What d'you mean?"

"It's nearly one in the morning, and you're not in your nightclothes," Sirius said, raising his eyebrows significantly at Remus's attire—a slightly shabby traveling cloak over a pair of thick gray robes. "You clearly weren't asleep when you got James's patronus."

"Oh, I—er—" Remus hesitated, swallowing as he looked down at his robes. Sirius was right; Remus _hadn't_ been at home when James's frantic patronus had arrived—he'd been in Yorkshire, on Dumbledore's orders. But Dumbledore had specifically warned Remus against telling his friends about this particular Order assignment, which was a sensitive and risky one—it involved scouting a possible rogue werewolf that was wreaking havoc on Muggle villages in the North Country. Dumbledore was keen on learning the werewolf's identity and whether or not it was acting on Voldemort's orders, but he was also insistent that Remus be discreet about his sleuthing, in case the werewolf was dangerous—or worse, in league with Fenrir Greyback. In fact, Dumbledore hadn't even confided in the other leaders of the Order—Moody, Mr. Dearborn, and Elphinstone Urquart—about the mission.

"Remus?" Sirius asked, frowning warily at him. "Are you all right?"

Remus jumped, looking up at Sirius. "Oh—yes, of course—I-I just—"

But Remus was saved the trouble of explaining himself—and his whereabouts that night—by a sudden knock at the front door. In a flash, he and Sirius had both drawn their wands.

"Peter, probably," Sirius muttered, leading the way back into the foyer. Remus glanced in the direction of the stairs as they walked to the front door—but James had not come downstairs to investigate the knock this time. Remus strongly suspected that Lily had threatened to curse his existence into oblivion if he left the room again.

"Who's there?" Sirius asked for the second time that night, his ear pressed against the door. "Declare yourself."

"It's W-Wormtail," came the muffled response. Remus shared a bewildered look with Sirius—it sounded as though Peter was shivering. "P-please—let m-me in."

Sirius frowned. "Peter, you know the drill—you've got to tell me something only you and I would know."

"Oh—r-r-right—erm—well, I-I—I g-got f-five O.W.L.s—"

"Wormtail, how am I supposed to remember how many O.W.L.s you got?" Sirius demanded. "I don't even remember how many O.W.L.s _I_ got—"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Remus muttered impatiently, reaching out and pulling open the front door to reveal the short, shuddering form of Peter on the front porch. His robes were practically soaked through with water. "What on Earth—?" Remus broke off in alarm, hurriedly chivvying Peter into the house and latching the door behind him. "What happened to you? Why are you sopping wet?"

"I-I w-w-was in Scotland," Peter explained, teeth chattering. "It w-was r-r-raining."

Remus used his wand to cast a Warming Charm over Peter as the three of them walked into the sitting room. As his robes grew drier, Peter's breathing began to quieten and his shoulders stopped shaking.

"Why were you in Scotland?" Sirius asked, as he, Remus, and Peter settled themselves around the coffee table—Sirius on the armchair and Remus and Peter on the sofa.

"I was with Sturgis Podmore on the Isle of Skye," Peter explained, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he slumped back against the sofa cushions. "We were helping the McKinnons go into hiding."

"What?" Remus looked around at Peter, startled. "Why are they going into hiding?"

Peter shrugged dismally. "Same reason as the Longbottoms—and Lily and James," he said. "Marlene's name came up in a list of targets being tracked by Death Eaters. The whole family's gone into hiding together—Marlene, Bryce, Bryce's parents, and Bryce's younger brother, William, and his wife."

Remus blinked, leaning back in his seat and thinking of Marlene—of her strong, sharp, ever-stoic presence in Order meetings. Only a real threat to her family's safety could have forced Marlene off the battlefield and underground.

Swallowing heavily, Remus looked at Sirius. Sirius met his eyes only briefly before he looked away.

"Well," Sirius cleared his throat, reaching into the pocket of his pajama bottoms and producing a deck of Exploding Snap cards. "Now that the mood is sufficiently grim, who fancies a few rounds of Snap as we wait on Elvendork's arrival?"

Peter laughed, and Remus gazed at the deck of cards in amazement. The idea that something as normal as Exploding Snap could still exist in their world was absurd, yet glorious.

So, they played into the wee hours of the morning, talking and laughing together for what felt like the first time in years. They discussed Sirius's latest fling, a barmaid at the Leaky Cauldron who had very nearly fainted at the sight of his motorcycle. They talked of their families—of Peter's mother, Remus's father, and Sirius's cousin Andromeda, with whom Sirius maintained fairly regular contact. Apparently, seven-year-old Nymphadora hated her name. Sirius was still lording this fact over Andromeda.

It was almost like being back at Hogwarts—like being back in their old dormitory, where they had shared countless games of Exploding Snap and hours of lighthearted conversation on the rug in the middle of the room. But they weren't at Hogwarts. They were sitting in a house that had been given nearly every protection the Order could provide, and just a floor above them, two of their best friends were having a baby. And so, they talked about James, and Lily, and the soon-to-be new addition to the Potter family—for it went without saying that this baby would belong to each of them, as well. To Remus, who had long-accepted that he would never father a child of his own and risk ruining an innocent life. To Sirius, who would die before he despoiled a child with his unfortunate surname. And to Peter, whose faith in the responsibilities of fatherhood had been dashed early on, when his own father had left his wife and son without a backward glance.

It was just past six-thirty when a tired but smiling Elinor Bones appeared in the doorway of the sitting room to tell them that the baby—a boy—had been born at five forty-six in the morning. He was six pounds, eight ounces, and perfectly healthy, Elinor said, as she swung her traveling cloak over her shoulders, preparing to head home. And he was ready for visitors, she added.

Remus followed Sirius and Peter up the stairs in a daze. The faintest rays of sunlight were beginning to filter through the cottage windows from the pinkish-red sky outside, bathing the entire house in a soft, golden glow. But the glow from the sun was nothing compared to the glow that seemed to emanate from Lily's face, where she sat in hers and James's bed, cradling a squirmy bundle of blue blankets in her arms. She looked exhausted, and there were tears in her eyes, but her happiness was intoxicating. Remus found himself drawn towards the bed, as though his legs were moving of their own accord.

Lily looked up and beamed when she saw the three new arrivals to the room. Glancing up at James, who was sitting next to her on the bed—looking half-mad with relief and delight—she nodded. James grinned back at her, standing up and clearing his throat.

"Everyone," he said softly, gazing down at the baby in Lily's arms, "meet Harry James Potter."

Peter let out a little sob, clapping a hand over his mouth, but neither James nor Sirius laughed at him. Sirius was utterly transfixed by the baby, whose enormous, brilliant eyes were blinking curiously up at him from under dark lashes—as though they couldn't get enough of the world around them. Stepping closer to the bed, Sirius held out his arms.

"Er—may I…?" he asked hoarsely.

James looked at Sirius, smiling. Very carefully, he bent down and took the baby from Lily, turning around to gently lay him in Sirius's outstretched arms.

"Mind his head," Remus told Sirius automatically—and both Sirius and James looked at him in surprise.

"How d'you know about babies?" James wanted to know.

Remus's lips twitched. "I practically raised you lot, didn't I?"

With the baby now snug in his arms, Sirius sank down to the edge of James and Lily's bed, looking positively enraptured.

"Hey, there, mate," he said quietly. "I'm your uncle Padfoot—I'm your godfather. And this…" he paused, swallowing. "This is your family."

Both Peter and Lily were crying in earnest, now. James sat back down next to Lily, embracing her. It took Remus every ounce of effort he possessed to contain the enormous lump in his own throat, as he moved towards Sirius and the baby. Very gently, he extended his hand and stroked the baby's fist with one finger. Almost at once, five little fingertips latched on to him, surprisingly strong and warm.

"Harry," Remus whispered.

At that very moment, a red-gold glow burst suddenly across the room, as the outline of the fiery orange rising sun appeared in full over the bedroom window. And Remus found himself beaming, laughing, as sunlight flooded, fierce and bright, into the Potters' home, onto the most beautiful baby any of them had ever seen.

* * *

Author's Note:

Small disclaimer: I found James's line about the baby being born with glasses/antlers on Pinterest, and ever since, I haven't been able to imagine James not saying it. XD

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Something a little happier after the last one.

Ari


	33. Year

25 December 1980

"First Christmas, Harry," Lily cooed, leaning across the coffee table to give her five-month-old son a big kiss where he was sitting in Remus's lap. "Is it as good as you hoped it would be?"

Remus chuckled. "Given that he's five months old, I'm sure his expectations were well-met," he said, shaking his head as he bounced Harry in his lap. As if to agree with Remus, the five-month-old gave a sudden shriek of jubilant laughter, holding his tiny arms up towards his mother. Lily laughed, too, reaching across the coffee table to scoop Harry off of Remus's knees. At once, Harry snuggled against her shoulder, babbling softly.

For several minutes, neither Lily nor Remus spoke, and a lingering silence fell over the sitting room of the Potters' Godric's Hollow cottage, punctuated only by the tinkling Christmas music that was playing from the glittering baubles on the ceiling. Lily had been planning for Harry's first Christmas since the minute Halloween had ended, and her planning had left nothing undone. Every square inch of James and Lily's sitting room was draped in gold tinsel and scarlet ribbons.

But even months of conscientious planning hadn't been able to contend with the inevitable. Peter hadn't been able to make it to the Potters' for Christmas—he was stuck in Wiltshire for a mission. And James and Sirius had both left the house in the middle of dinner, after Moody had sent an urgent Patronus requesting the presence of two people at the Bones family's house in Upper Flagley immediately. Apparently, Dumbledore had received a tip from someone close to Voldemort's inner circle that Edgar Bones and his family had become top targets of the Death Eaters. James and Sirius had gone to help Moody and Benjy Fenwick set protective wards over the Boneses' home.

Suddenly— "It's stupid, isn't it? All of this…and I know he isn't going to remember any of it," Lily said quietly, patting Harry's back as she glanced around the festively decorated sitting room. The baby's bright green eyes were almost closed.

Remus looked at Lily, swallowing. "It's not stupid," he said softly. "It's been…a pretty gloomy past couple months."

"Try couple years," Lily said with a miserable laugh, shaking her head. She turned back to Remus, smiling determinedly as she leaned back in her armchair. "Maybe the next one won't be so depressing."

Remus nodded, even though the very thought of making it all the way to another Christmas seemed suddenly and frighteningly unbearable.

* * *

27 March 1981

"A _what?_ " Remus asked, eyes widening as he gaped at Sirius across James and Lily's small dining table.

"A spy," Sirius said grimly, accepting a slice of James's birthday cake from Lily. "I overheard Dumbledore and Moody discussing it after the last meeting."

"What exactly did they say?" James asked, frowning as he swallowed a mouthful of cake. Remus knew that it had been almost four months, now, since either James or Lily had last been present at an Order meeting. After Harry had been born, the two had initially taken it in turns attending meetings, but in recent weeks, Dumbledore had advised the pair to avoid leaving their home altogether, unless absolutely necessary.

"They think we may have a spy in the Order," Sirius said, his voice stony as he popped a piece of cake into his mouth. "And with all of the names that've been leaked recently, it's not so hard to believe, is it?"

"Do they know who it could be?" Lily asked quietly, sliding a slice of birthday cake onto her own plate as she sat down at the table next to Remus. Remus felt a twinge of sadness as he watched her—this was yet another happy family event marred by sordid news.

"It didn't sound like it," Sirius shook his head.

"Well, we know it isn't any of us," James said firmly, and Lily nodded, reaching out and squeezing his hand.

Sirius chewed on a mouthful of cake, swallowing it. Then, he looked up and caught Remus's gaze, his expression inscrutable. Remus frowned confusedly at his friend—but Sirius's eyes had already flickered away.

Suddenly, there came a soft, muffled wail from the direction of the stairs—and at the same moment, there was a knock at the front door.

"That'll be Peter," James murmured, standing and drawing his wand. "Merlin, when was the last time he was on time to anything?"

"Oh, be nice," Lily scolded, rising from the table as well. "I'll go get the baby—I think he needs his nappy changed—"

"Allow me, Lady Prongs," Sirius interrupted, jumping up and giving Lily a flourishing bow. "This sounds like a job for his cool godfather."

Lily rolled her eyes. "If you think I'm leaving you alone with my son for even a second, you're mad," she told Sirius dryly. "He doesn't need you whispering in his ear about motorbikes and witches any more than you already do…" Lily shot an exasperated look at Remus as she followed James and Sirius out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

Remus grinned, allowing the familiar sounds of his friends' laughter and banter to fill him up as he took a generous bite of birthday cake. These golden hours of happiness were fewer and farther between than ever these days, and Remus wasn't going to allow them to slip away more than they already had.

* * *

17 July 1981

The sitting room of Edgar and Elinor Bones's house was filled with hushed, anxious voices. Moody had called an emergency meeting of the entire Order of the Phoenix—but in true Moody fashion, he had yet to arrive himself. Remus stood with Sirius and Peter near the back of the room, watching Professor Dumbledore pace up and down in front of the fireplace, his expression uncharacteristically tense and worried. Professor McGonagall, Mr. Dearborn, and Elphinstone Urquart stood a few feet away from him, looking strained.

Edgar Bones had volunteered his home as a meeting place for the evening. The Hog's Head Inn was no longer secure enough for so many people, especially with nearly half of the Order—the Longbottoms, the Potters, Marlene McKinnon, and Edgar Bones—in hiding, now. At the moment, Edgar was deep in conversation with Alice and Frank Longbottom, both of whom looked very apprehensive. Remus was fairly certain that it was because they had had to leave their young son, who was around the same age as Harry, with Frank's parents.

A sudden shadow was cast over the room as Aberforth Dumbledore plodded into the sitting room from the kitchen. Remus saw Professor Dumbledore look around and catch his brother's eye, and the two of them stared at each other for a moment. Then, Professor Dumbledore resumed his pacing in front of the fireplace. Remus swallowed heavily, crossing his arms. In his three years as a member of the Order, Remus had only seen Aberforth attend four or five meetings. For him to be here tonight could only mean that the situation was dour.

"What's going on?"

Remus whirled around, his heart leaping into his throat. James and Lily—who was holding an unhappy-looking, sniffling baby Harry—had just pushed their way through the crowded sitting room to join Remus, Sirius, and Peter by the sofa.

"Bloody hell," Sirius cried hoarsely, gaping at the Potters. "What're you doing here? I thought Dumbledore had you both under house arrest."

"Oh, we couldn't stand not knowing," Lily said anxiously, trying to quieten Harry, who was whimpering into her shoulder. She turned and shot a nervous look in the direction of the fireplace, but it appeared Dumbledore hadn't yet registered their arrival. "What's happened? Has Dumbledore said anything?"

"No—we're waiting on Moody," Remus said bleakly, glancing in the direction of the front door.

"You don't think this has something to do with this supposed spy, do you?" James asked in a low voice.

Peter gave a nervous twitch, and Sirius's expression turned grim. Nobody said anything.

Then, Sirius reached out and took Harry from Lily's arms, bouncing him gently. "Hey—c'mon, mate, don't cry," Sirius said soothingly. "You're all right…you're fine…and you know what? Uncle Padfoot's got a really cool birthday present for you this month—you're going to love it, Harry, I know you are…"

Harry's miserable snuffles subsided slightly, as the nearly one-year-old curled up against his godfather's chest, hiccupping.

"We had to wake him up to come here," Lily murmured, rubbing Harry's back. "And he's had a bit of a cold lately, poor thing—"

But that was as far as Lily got, for at that very moment, there was a loud, sharp knock at the Boneses' front door. At once, nearly every single occupant of the sitting room jumped to their feet and faced the foyer, wands out. Footsteps thudded down the staircase, as a white-faced, terrified-looking Elinor flew into the sitting room from where she had been upstairs, getting her children into bed. Edgar stepped forward and squeezed his wife's shoulder reassuringly, though his own face was also set and pale. Clutching his wand tightly, he stalked down the sitting room and into the adjacent foyer. Moments later, Remus heard muffled talking and the _click_ of a door opening and closing.

Then, at last, Alastor Moody stumped into the sitting room, with Edgar not far behind. He was as grizzled and gruesome-looking as ever—especially with his new wooden leg, which he'd obtained only a few weeks earlier, after an unsuccessful raid on a Death Eater hideout with several fellow-Aurors.

"Alastor," Dumbledore greeted Moody sharply, stepping forward. "What is so pressing that you have called everyone here tonight? Has the Ministry been infiltrated?"

Remus's stomach lurched unpleasantly. Glancing sideways, he shared a horrified look with Peter.

Slowly, Moody came to stand in the middle of the sitting room, his dark eyes sweeping over the enormous cluster of anxious-looking Order members crammed all around the expanse. (Hagrid took up about a quarter of the room, just by himself.)

Finally, Moody cleared his throat. "Albus, it seems you misinterpreted the urgency of my Patronus," Moody said gruffly, reaching into his cloak and withdrawing a medium-sized object. It took Remus a moment to recognize it for what it was: a positively ancient-looking camera. "I wasn't expecting so many of you to show up tonight. I had an idea at work today, after Scrimgeour and I hung up our latest Auror class's photo in the department's reception—I thought we could take a photo of the Order."

Several long minutes of astonished silence followed Moody's pronouncement. Remus's brain had stuttered to a halt—he couldn't begin to process what he had just heard. Meanwhile, across the sitting room, even Dumbledore appeared to be too stunned to speak.

In the end, it was Gideon Prewett who spoke first. "Do you mean to tell us, Alastor," Gideon said slowly, his tone numb with disbelief, "that you've called us all here today—some of us, out of _hiding_ —" he gestured pointedly at Marlene, who stood on his right, "—for a bloody _photoshoot?_ "

Moody didn't respond, but merely narrowed his eyes at Gideon. Another heavy, astounded silence unfolded over the cramped sitting room, enveloping its occupants, until—

"Moody, you mad, old berk," Aberforth Dumbledore barked from the kitchen doorway.

And just like that, the tension broke. The room erupted with relieved, incredulous laughter—led by the Prewett twins, both of whom were laughing so loudly that baby Harry startled awake from his half-doze to blink around in bewilderment. Lily sagged against James, her face flooding with color. Dedalus Diggle dropped his purple top hat, collapsing backwards onto the sofa. Emmeline Vance and Dorcas Meadowes were clutching each other tightly, shaking their heads. Dumbledore was chuckling, his bright blue eyes alight with amusement. And even McGonagall seemed torn between exasperation and elation.

"All right," Elinor Bones said loudly, over the din in the sitting room. She beamed, her thin face glowing, as took the old-fashioned camera from Moody. "Everyone, gather around—yes, just like that—squeeze in a little tighter by the couch, Sturgis, Elphias—you, too, Caradoc—Hagrid, move backwards a tad—and Sirius, why don't you give me the baby?" Elinor asked, reaching out and taking squirmy baby Harry from his godfather's arms. "You're not part of the Order, are you?" she cooed at the baby. "No, you aren't…"

"And thank Merlin for that," James muttered, eyes twinkling. "Harry could take those Death Eaters down in a second—nothing sends people running like a smelly nappy."

Remus grinned, shaking his head, as he found himself being shuffled into the front row, directly in front of James, Lily, and Sirius. Lily looked around, frowning.

"Where's Wormy?" she wondered. "Oh, there he is—Peter!" she called, waving the fourth Marauder over from where he was standing, half-hidden, between the tall, broad-shouldered forms of Benjy Fenwick and Frank Longbottom. "Peter, over here, with us!"

Peter made his way over to them, smiling, though Remus thought there seemed to be something rather strained about his smile. He didn't have time to dwell on this fact, however, as Elinor began counting down from ten. Beaming, Lily reached out and tucked Peter between herself and James.

"—five—four—three—two—one!" Elinor called, bouncing little Harry in her arms as she directed the camera at the enormous mass of people squashed around her sitting room sofa. "Everyone say 'butterbeer!'"

"Butterbeer!" everyone chorused.

"Buh!" squealed Harry, waving his tiny fists in the air—and the sitting room rumbled with laughter for a second time, just as the shutter snapped with a brilliant flash of light.

* * *

Author's Note:

These were a few short vignette-type scenes from James and Lily's first and only year with their son that I felt were too short to be their own chapters, so I decided to put them together. :) A tiny bit of extra happiness before...um, nothing. :S

Much love as always,  
Ari


	34. Spy

31 October 1981

Remus wasn't usually one to let his mind wander during Order meetings—not especially under the shrewd, watchful eyes of Alastor Moody—but this evening, Remus couldn't concentrate on a single word Dumbledore was saying. The distractions were everywhere: First, Sirius—who was sitting on Remus's right—kept fidgeting maddeningly in his seat. Then, there was Moody's new eye: A vivid, electric blue contraption twice the size of his left eye, it kept spinning like a top in his head, making Remus nauseous. And lastly, there was the photograph.

The photograph of the Order of the Phoenix, taken just three months previous. Moody had recently made a habit of ceremoniously pinning it to the wall of the Hog's Head's upstairs sitting room at the start of every Order meeting. Perhaps he thought it would boost morale, but in reality, it just made Remus sick to his stomach every time he saw it—all of those happy, laughing faces, waving cheerfully at him. Half of them, Remus would never see again.

Marlene McKinnon had been the first to go, just two weeks after the photograph was taken. Death Eaters had managed to breach the protective wards placed over the McKinnons' Scotland cottage, murdering her and her entire family—her husband, her in-laws, and her brother- and sister-in-law—in a single night.

Barely another fortnight later, Edgar Bones had been killed, along with his wife and three children, all under the age of seven. Remus had been sound asleep when he'd received the frantic Patronus from Benjy Fenwick, alerting him to the invasion. By the time Remus and Sirius had arrived at the Boneses' home in Upper Flagley, the whole house had been in flames—and the two of them had only been able to find Benjy's mangled remains in the backyard.

It had been an enormous blow to the Order, the loss of three such crucial members. But just when Remus had thought things couldn't possible get worse, they had. In September, the Prewett twins had been cornered and killed by Bellatrix Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, Evan Rosier, Thorfinn Rowle, and Achilles Wilkes. Moody had not arrived in time to save them, and although he'd managed to kill Rosier and severely wound Wilkes, he had lost his right eye and a good chunk of his nose in the process.

The very next day, Dorcas Meadowes's body had been found on the outskirts of a small village in Yorkshire by the name of Little Hangleton, and Dumbledore had deduced that Voldemort himself had lured her there and murdered her. Emmeline Vance, distraught by her younger sister's death, suffered an even greater tragedy just a week later, when her husband was killed by Death Eaters as he was leaving the Ministry. Newly widowed and grief-stricken, the once stern, stately Emmeline had turned into a shell of her former self in recent weeks. Remus had yet to hear her utter a single word.

But perhaps the biggest loss of all—and the one that Remus felt most deeply and personally—was the unsettling disappearance of James's uncle Caradoc, who had simply vanished without a trace near the end of August. The Order had exhausted every resource it had, trying to find him, but it had so far been unsuccessful, and Remus knew that any future efforts would be futile. Mr. Dearborn, like so many others, was gone.

James had taken the disappearance of his uncle—his last living relative—very hard, but the loss had also inspired a resolve in him that Remus had never seen before. In the past two months, James had abided strictly by his family's house arrest, not leaving Godric's Hollow even for the odd midnight adventure, so determined was he to protect his family. It had been nearly a week, now, since Remus had last seen James, Lily, and Harry. The Potters, under the advisement of Dumbledore, had placed the powerful Fidelius Charm over their home, making them truly undetectable. Remus had yet to be told the Secret by Sirius.

Remus blinked, swallowing heavily as he stared at the photograph on the wall, his gaze flicking from Marlene's poised, thin-lipped smile, to the Prewett twins' cheeky grins, to Edgar Bones's scruffy, bristly mustache. Remus had recognized more names in the _Daily Prophet_ in the last three months than in the last three years. He had read each of the obituaries dozens of times, hoping that doing so would make the deaths more real—but even the words, plain and black, hadn't allowed Remus to make sense of it all…

 _…_ _Mr. Bones is preceded in death by his parents, George and Susan Bones, and is survived by his older sister Amelia, younger brother Roger, sister-in-law Diana and niece Susan…_

Only one thing was absolutely clear, now: There was a spy in the Order. These deaths were not random, they couldn't be. The protective enchantments placed over the McKinnons' and Boneses' homes had been almost completely foolproof—only an insider could have known how to penetrate them. And the Prewetts and Dorcas Meadowes had been on assignments when they had been cornered. Someone was passing information directly to the Death Eaters—and that someone was almost certainly sitting in the upper room of the Hog's Head, right at this very moment. Remus tore his eyes away from the photograph for the first time, glancing around the meeting table. It was emptier, by far, than Remus had ever seen it before. Apart from Sirius, Dumbledore, and Moody, only three others sat at the table this evening: a somber-faced Sturgis Podmore, a very dismal Dedalus Diggle, and a pale, numb-looking Emmeline Vance, who had a black shawl wrapped around her head. Remus stared at each of them for a long moment—but by the end of it, he was even less convinced that one of them was the spy…

 _…_ _Mrs. McKinnon is survived only by her younger brother, Dirk Cresswell…Miss Meadowes is survived by her parents, Cyril and Allegra Meadowes, and her sister, Emmeline Vance…_

Clenching his jaw, Remus turned to face the head of the table.

"…And with that, I think we may conclude for the evening," Dumbledore was saying quietly, as he rolled up the scrolls he had been reviewing. "I must return to the castle for the Halloween feast. A reminder to everyone that all ongoing reconnaissance missions have been suspended until further notice—I will contact each of you individually if I require something from you. Goodnight—and please travel safely."

There was a soft scraping of chairs as everyone got to their feet, pulling on their traveling cloaks.

"Oh—Sirius and Remus, may I have a quick word with you both?" Dumbledore asked.

Remus looked up, frowning. He glanced sideways at Sirius, but Sirius didn't catch his eye as he snatched up his cloak and brushed past him, towards Dumbledore. Feeling rather slighted, Remus buttoned up his own cloak and quickly followed his friend to the head of the table. Moody gave them a suspicious grunt as he stumped past, towards the pub stairs. Remus saw him unpin the photograph of the Order from the wall on his way out, slipping it back into his pocket.

Dumbledore waited for Moody's matted gray head to disappear around the banister before he turned and looked at Sirius.

"How are the Potters?" Dumbledore asked Sirius in a low voice, a worried crease forming between his silvery eyebrows. "Have you been in contact with them?"

"I visited them yesterday—they're fine," Sirius assured him.

Dumbledore nodded, but his expression remained concerned, as he glanced between Sirius and Remus. "And have either of you been in contact with Peter?" he asked. "I haven't received any correspondence from him as of late—and he didn't attend the meeting this evening. Is he well?"

Remus stared at Dumbledore. He had assumed that the reason Peter hadn't attended the meeting was because he—like Professor McGonagall, and Hagrid, and Elphias Doge—had been doing something else on Dumbledore's orders. Remus opened his mouth to say this—but yet again, Sirius spoke first.

"Peter's visiting family in Devonshire," Sirius said abruptly. "He's fine. He just wants to lie low for a bit."

Remus was startled by Sirius's tone, which was markedly stiffer and more guarded than it usually was. But he was even more caught off guard by this new revelation—Peter was lying low? In the West Country? Why hadn't Remus been told of this?

Dumbledore looked unnerved, too. "Devonshire?" he asked Sirius slowly. "Are you quite certain about that, Sirius? Aberforth says he saw him at the Hog's Head just yesterday."

For a split-second, Remus saw something akin to mingled shock and anger cross Sirius's features—but then, the next instant, it was gone, and Sirius looked as wooden as ever.

"I'm sure he's fine," Sirius said firmly. "I'll check in on him tonight—I…I—I'm sure he's fine."

Remus frowned at Sirius. "Sirius…is everything all right—?"

"I've got to go," Sirius interrupted, ignoring Remus. He swept his traveling cloak onto his shoulders. "Bye, Professor—I'll send you a Patronus once I've checked on Peter."

With that, Sirius turned around and stalked down the length of the sitting room. Remus watched his friend vanish down the stairs, slightly openmouthed. Then, he looked at Dumbledore, shaking his head. "Professor, I swear, I have no idea what that was about—"

"Never mind," Dumbledore interrupted, although he too seemed disturbed by Sirius's behavior. "I will speak with Sirius later—right now, I have an urgent request to make of you."

Remus's stomach clenched. "What is it?"

"It is with regards to the werewolf that has been terrorizing the North Country," Dumbledore said in a steely voice. "I have received confirmation from a trusted source that the werewolf is, indeed, Fenrir Greyback—and that he has been acting on Voldemort's orders. I need you in Yorkshire immediately. Can I count on you to tail him? Are you prepared?"

Remus's heart fell. He wanted to refuse. He wanted to tell Dumbledore that there were other, more pressing things he needed to do—that he needed to track Sirius down and find out why he was acting so strangely—that he needed to find Peter and make sure he was okay—that he needed to see James, and Lily, and Harry, because it had been far too long since the last time he'd seen for himself that they were alive and well. But Remus didn't say any of these things. Right now, the Order needed him—and after all, weren't his friends the reason he was part of the Order at all? He needed to do whatever he could to keep them safe.

Swallowing heavily, Remus straightened his shoulders and looked at Dumbledore. "I'm ready, sir."

* * *

Author's Note:

Chapters 34 and 35 go together. Brace yourselves, everyone. We're heading into some pretty depressing territory. :( But pretty soon, we'll get to book!canon. That's exciting, right?!

Stick with me through this.

With love,  
Ari


	35. Nightmare

3 November 1981

Remus materialized onto the middle of the crowded Hogsmeade High Street, pulling his traveling cloak snugly around his sore limbs. He'd spent more than two-and-a-half days in isolation, meandering the North Country—and to no avail. The closest he had come to finding a trace of Fenrir Greyback was a few animal carcasses that looked as though they may have been ravaged by a werewolf. Nearly sixty-five hours of scouring the hillsides of Yorkshire, and all Remus had to show for it were his own hunger and exhaustion.

He rubbed his palms together, then shoved them into his cloak pockets. The November air in Scotland was needle-sharp, but the High Street was—rather surprisingly—swarming with people. It was odd—people rarely lingered in the streets anymore, a hallmark of wartime that Remus had long since adjusted to. Diagon Alley's cobbled roads were always barren. Glancing around in mild confusion, Remus wove his way through the mobs, trudging up the High Street in the direction of the Hogwarts castle. Dumbledore had sent Remus an urgent message that morning, asking to meet in the Headmaster's office, presumably to hear updates on Remus's mission—but Remus hadn't been able to resist a detour through his favorite Wizarding town. He knew it was dangerous, stupid…but it had been so long since Remus had felt anything close to normalcy…

As Remus walked up the pavement, sidestepping several groups of chatty townspeople, his mind wandered to his friends. He wondered what James and Lily were doing. It was nearly eleven o'clock in the morning—perhaps they had just finished their breakfasts and put Harry down for a nap. Remus's heart gave a painful twinge at the thought of little Harry, whom he hadn't seen since the Potters had placed the Fidelius Charm over their home. He would have to pester Sirius to give him the Secret sooner rather than later—

 _Sirius_. Remus stopped short in his tracks, his heart giving a tiny jolt in his chest, as he frantically began counting the number of days and nights that had passed since Halloween, when he had departed for Yorkshire on Dumbledore's orders. Sure enough, it was the third of November—Sirius's twenty-second birthday. Remus kicked himself mentally—how could he have forgotten?

James and Lily were probably already planning a birthday tea. Well, it was a good thing Remus had stopped by Hogsmeade, after all. He couldn't afford anything big, but perhaps he had enough time to scrounge up a small tin of Sirius's favorite Firewhisky chocolates from Honeydukes…

Remus hurried up the lane, his breath coming out in short puffs. Passing by the Three Broomsticks Inn, Remus glanced, out of habit, at the bulletin board outside the pub's door, where Madam Rosmerta often pinned important newspaper clippings and concert advertisements—and Remus almost tripped over his feet, as, for the second time that morning, he came to a screeching halt in his tracks.

Sirius's face was glaring at him from the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ , under an headline that sent a horrible chill shooting down Remus's spine: **13 MUGGLES KILLED; SUSPECT SIRIUS BLACK IN CUSTODY**.

Remus's jaw went slack, his entire body growing numb. Slowly, and almost as though against his own accord, he found himself moving towards the bulletin board. Pinned just above the _Prophet_ clipping of Sirius was a different front-page article ( **YOU-KNOW-WHO DEFEATED? SKIRMISH IN GODRIC'S HOLLOW** ), and the featured photograph was one of a very familiar brick cottage…

No. No, no, no. _No_. It couldn't be—

"Horrible, isn't it?"

Remus jumped, looking up. A plump, old wizard had just come outside the pub for a smoke. Tutting, he came to stand at Remus's shoulder, taking a long drag from his pipe and exhaling deeply as he stared at the newspaper clipping.

"Horrible, just horrible…" the wizard continued, shaking his head. "Whoever would've thought a baby would be the one to end this? Oh, I do wonder how he's doing without his parents, poor thing."

Remus could feel his insides turning to ice. Reaching out, he gripped a nearby post to steady himself—his knees were in danger of giving out—

"So young, these Potters—practically children themselves," the wizard wheezed dolefully. "And to think, their own friend…"

Bile leaped to the back of Remus's throat, and he reeled backwards, clapping a hand over his mouth. Then, several things seemed to happen at once. Remus's stomach gave an almighty heave, and he hunched over the High Street, vomiting onto the pavement in front of the Three Broomsticks. At that very moment, as if on cue, a flash of fire filled the street; the plump wizard cried out in alarm, dropping his pipe, but Remus reached instinctively toward the tongue of the flame, from which a tiny slip of parchment fluttered onto his palm. It bore three words in familiar looping purple ink.

 _Remus, please hurry.  
—A.P.W.B.D._

Remus stared down at the note, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. So, Dumbledore knew. The whole town of Hogsmeade—the entire Wizarding world, it seemed—knew, that in the span of less than three days, Remus's life had somehow become his worst nightmare.

"Excuse me—sir, are you quite all right?"

Remus blinked, swallowing the acrid taste in his mouth. The wheezy, old wizard was regarding him with a mixture of worry and astonishment, his pipe limp in his hand.

"I—I'm—" Remus stammered, shaking his head and taking a step back. Drawing his wand, he waved it over the pavement, vanishing the vomit. Then, he turned on his heel and took off sprinting down the High Street, in the direction he had come, away from the Three Broomsticks…away from Hogwarts…

The wind stung Remus's face, biting into his skin, but Remus ignored the bitter tears streaming down his cheeks as he tore down the lane. Dumbledore's note slipped out of his fingers, but Remus barely noticed. Gasping for breath, Remus stopped in the middle of the street, clutching his stomach. Then, without thinking, without planning it, Remus turned on the spot.

When he opened his eyes, he was standing in his childhood bedroom in Shell Cottage. Dad had forgotten to put up the anti-apparition wards, as usual—or perhaps he simply hadn't bothered with them. After all, it appeared that the war was over, now…

Trembling from head-to-toe, Remus sank down onto his bed, his head spinning. A flicker of motion from his bedside table caught his eye, and he looked around to see a familiar photo frame on the nightstand: Remus and his friends, on the last day of their fourth year. Slowly, Remus reached out and picked it up. James and Sirius, the consummate rebels, were in the middle of the photograph. Sirius's posture was as carelessly arrogant as Remus had ever seen it, and James's grin was almost as lopsided as his hair. On either side stood Peter and Remus—even then seemingly on the fringe of James and Sirius's friendship.

One murdered. One blasted into oblivion. One a traitor to the rest. And Remus…left alone, to bear the brunt of it all.

Just then, Remus heard footsteps from the corridor outside his bedroom, and he jumped, hastily mopping up the wetness on his cheeks with his cloak sleeve.

"Remus?" came Dad's quiet, muffled voice from beyond Remus's bedroom door. "Is that…is that you, son?"

"Yeah, Dad," Remus called hoarsely, sniffing. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean to barge in, I-I should have knocked—"

The bedroom door opened with a creak, and Remus sat up straight, quickly setting the old photograph aside—but Dad had already seen it. He looked as frail and careworn as the last time Remus had seen him, but his expression was filled with fresh sadness and concern.

Remus couldn't speak—but he didn't have to. The very next second, Dad had crossed the room in three long strides and wrapped Remus up in his arms.

"Oh, Remus," he whispered, squeezing Remus tightly. "I'm so sorry, love."

"It's not—I don't—" Remus choked out. "I'll—I'll be fine—"

"Of course you will," Dad said firmly, holding Remus yet more securely. "Of course you will."

* * *

Author's Note:

Hiya, everyone! I hope this story still has some followers. I know it's been ages. The past couple months have been absolutely impossible, and to make it worse, I've been stuck with the WORST writer's block.

This chapter was probably the most difficult I've had to write so far, for many reasons. We're entering some pretty dark territory, but on a positive note: Pretty soon, we'll hit book!Canon. Get ready for Professor Lupin!

I'm so very sorry for the wait on this story. I hope y'all decide to stick around regardless.

Love,  
Ari


	36. Lost I

6 November 1981

Remus stood in front of number four, Privet Drive, gazing up at the prim, perfect, peach-colored building, complete with its impeccably manicured front yard. Instinctively, he thought of James and Lily's cottage in Godric's Hollow—so unlike this Surrey house, with its ivy-covered brick walls and unruly garden—and he felt a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach as he realized that Harry would never remember any of it.

Swallowing, Remus walked slowly up the drive to the Dursleys' front porch. He hesitated for a moment. Then, he raised his hand and knocked twice on the spotless front door.

It was several moments before the door opened, and Remus found himself looking at a tall, thin, blond-haired woman in a frilly pink apron. She had a long, stiff neck that made her look distinctly horse-like, and her pale eyes were narrowed slightly.

She looked nothing like her sister.

"Who are you?" she asked sharply, her eyes lingering on his shabby traveling cloak.

"I—hello, you must be Petunia Dursley," Remus stammered, holding out his hand; Petunia did not shake it. "I—er—my name is Remus Lupin—I was a friend of James and Lily's…I-I hope you don't mind me looking up your address—I just—Professor Dumbledore said you were organizing the funeral, and…"

Remus trailed off at the look on Petunia's face—which, in the past thirty seconds, had turned maroon.

"How dare you," she whispered, her voice shaking. "How dare you—how _dare_ you come here?"

Remus gaped at her, horrified. "I—I-I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"First Dumbledore, then that Bagshot woman, and now you? You're not welcome here— _any of you_ ," Petunia screeched.

"Mrs. Dursley—I—please—"

"You can tell your freak friends that the funeral is on Sunday at noon, in that—that _freak_ town," Petunia said tremulously, glowering at Remus. "And _don't_ come back here."

"I'm sorry—I won't," Remus said quickly. "Just—please, Mrs. Dursley, can I—can I see Harry—?"

The door swung shut in Remus's face.

* * *

26 November 1981

"Are you hungry? Did you eat supper already? I can heat up some leftover chicken for you—"

"I'm fine, Dad," Remus interrupted in a low voice, as he deposited a cardboard box full of his things onto the floor of his childhood bedroom in Shell Cottage. "I'll wake up early tomorrow to make us breakfast."

"Nonsense," Dad said at once, crossing his arms where he stood in the doorframe of Remus's room. "You've had a rough week. I'll take care of the cooking."

Remus opened his mouth to argue, but he closed it again a moment later. There was silence for several moments, as Remus and his father stared at each other.

Then— "I'll be out of here soon," Remus said quietly. "I…I've started looking for other accommodations—this is only temporary, Dad, I promise—"

"Remus," Dad breathed, shaking his head. "Son, this is your _home_ —you are always, _always_ welcome here. You know that."

Remus didn't respond, pressing his lips together. Nearly two weeks had passed since Remus had realized he could no longer afford the rent on his Diagon Alley flat without James and Lily's support. He had been forced to break his lease early, and his infuriated landlord had refused to return to him even a knut of his security deposit. Stunned, ashamed, and utterly demoralized, Remus had spent two nights in the Leaky Cauldron's cheapest, most rundown room before finally conceding defeat: The next morning, he had packed up his things and apparated to Shell Cottage.

It was a temporary move, Remus had told himself—and his father—repeatedly. Remus could not— _would_ not—endanger his father's peaceful existence by returning to live with him for good.

"…absolutely _sure_ you don't want anything to eat?" Dad was still fussing.

Remus blinked, looking at his father in the doorframe again—at the tired lines around his eyes—at his hair, which, once full and dark, was now receding and liberally streaked with white. Remus felt a dull, aching pang in his chest at the sight.

Shaking his head, Remus forced a smile and stepped towards the frame. "I'm fine, Dad. Really. Goodnight."

And he closed the door.

* * *

15 January 1982

"I can give you about twenty-five pounds for these," grumbled the scruffy-looking Muggle man behind the pawnshop counter, examining the vinyl records Remus had presented him with through a dusty monocle.

"Only twenty-five?" Remus asked, crestfallen. "But—sir—look, some of these are nearly thirty years old."

The pawnbroker lowered his monocle, glowering up at Remus. "I'll give you thirty, then. I'm not going any higher."

Remus swallowed, hating himself, but he nodded. It was barely a fortnight since the new year, and he was already out his first job of the month—he would have to take what he could get.

With a grunt, the pawnbroker reached into his dingy cashbox and withdrew three crumpled ten pound notes, slapping them onto the countertop. Then, he reached for the stack of records and began roughly tossing them one by one onto the shelf of odd objects behind the counter. Stomach clenching painfully at the sight of his mother's most prized possessions being handled so despicably, Remus averted his eyes and swiftly pocketed his money. He was just about to turn around to leave when he caught sight of the record that the pawnbroker was reaching for now—it was in a large, worn black record sleeve with no writing on it…clearly bought secondhand…

"No!" Remus choked out, lunging across the counter and snatching the record out of the pawnbroker's hands. "You—you can't have this one."

The pawnbroker glared menacingly at Remus from behind his bushy gray beard, climbing to his feet. "We had a deal, boy—thirty for all of them—"

"I don't care—here, take your money," Remus said in a strangled voice, fishing inside his pocket for one of the ten pound notes and flinging it back at the pawnbroker. "You just—you can't have this."

And without waiting for a response, Remus turned and stalked away, hugging his mother's record to his chest, his heart rattling almost as violently as the pawnshop door as it slammed behind him.

* * *

10 March 1982

Remus yawned, trudging into the dining room of his cottage, exhausted from a long evening of bussing tables at the village tavern. After nearly four months of sleeping in offbeat inns and subletting the odd basement or cellar, Remus had at last managed to secure a place of his own. The derelict, three-room cabin on the fringes of a poor Muggle village in Yorkshire was far from impressive, but it was, nevertheless, a consistent roof over his head.

Yawning again, Remus reached into his coat and withdrew the loaf of slightly stale bread he had bought from the village market on his way home. Setting the meager-looking loaf down on his kitchen counter, Remus stared at it for a moment.

His stomach gave a low growl.

Sighing softly, Remus pulled out his wand and charmed a kitchen knife to start slicing the bread. Then, wrapping his tattered scarf more snugly around his neck, he slipped out the kitchen door to his backyard, to see if he could forage some edible-looking mushrooms for his birthday supper.

* * *

2 May 1982

Remus strode up the rocky seaside path to his father's back door, rubbing his slightly throbbing forehead (an unsolicited reminder of the full moon in six days). But before Remus could so much as reach out to knock, the back door swung open and his father appeared in the frame, beaming.

"Remus," Dad said excitedly, ushering Remus into Shell Cottage's cozy kitchen. "Come in, come in—the pot roast is almost ready."

"Pot roast?" Remus smiled bemusedly, closing the kitchen door behind him. "Have you become a gourmet chef since the last time I was here?"

Dad snorted. "Hardly," he said, hurrying back to the stove to check on his cooking. "I just felt bad relying on Isabel Waterston's casseroles and kindness—I figured it was time I learned my own way around the kitchen."

Remus chuckled, shaking his head and taking a seat at the dining table—which was teeming with parchment, pamphlets, and heaps of half-opened mail. Clearly, Dad rarely ate in the kitchen anymore; Remus wondered if the room reminded him of Mum.

"Oh—let me get that cleaned up for us," Dad said from the stove, his eyes landing on the mess of paper on the table. "I'm sorry, I should have taken care of that—"

"Don't worry, Dad, I've got it," Remus said, already drawing his wand. "You worry about not overcooking that roast," he added lightly.

Dad rolled his eyes at Remus, but he turned back to the stove. With a flick of his wand, Remus set the clutter on the dining table organizing itself into piles and zooming up the nearby staircase to his father's study. Parchment rolled itself into scrolls, Ministry newsletters jumped into neat sheaves, and several maroon pamphlets flew into a large maroon file folder. Remus glanced at the front of the folder: The words _'St. Oswald's Home for Old Witches and Wizards'_ were emblazoned across the top in silver text.

Remus frowned, watching the folder close itself and straighten up. But before it could follow the rest of the parchment up to his father's study, Remus snatched it out of the air. Glancing briefly across the kitchen at his father, he flipped it open.

 _'Welcome to the St. Oswald's community, Lyall Lupin!'_ read the first pamphlet inside the folder.

"All right, Remus, dinner's ready—oh."

Remus looked up at his father. Dad was staring at the folder in Remus's hands, openmouthed. His face had turned pale.

There was a tense pause.

Then— "St. Oswald's?" Remus asked hoarsely.

Dad set the platter of roast down on the kitchen table. "Remus, I was going to tell you tonight…"

"Tell me what?" Remus asked, his voice sounding rather higher than usual.

Dad bit his lip, wringing his hands. "Son, it's not—"

"You're not old, Dad," Remus said, placing the maroon file folder gingerly on the table next to the roast. "You—you aren't even sixty yet—"

"Remus," Dad sighed, closing his eyes. "It's not…I just…I—I can't be here, in this house anymore. I…I'm tired, son."

"So you're going to sell it?" Remus asked, his voice catching. "Mum _loved_ this house—this town—"

"Yes—that's why…well, I was thinking you might want it," Dad cut in, looking at Remus for the first time. "The house, I mean."

Remus stared at his father for several moments.

"Dad," he said in a low voice. "I could never afford this place."

"You don't have to buy it," Dad said immediately, eyes wide. "It's yours, Remus. It…it's what your mother would have want—"

"I can't do that. I _won't_ do that," Remus said sharply. "Dad, I'm not taking anything from you."

Dad's expression filled with hurt. Remus looked away.

"Well," Dad murmured at last, his tone faint. "Then, I guess I'll have to sell it."

Remus's stomach clenched. "I guess so," he said numbly, still not looking at his father.

Another fraught silence fell over the kitchen, suffocating the room, broken only when Dad cleared his throat uncomfortably. "So—the roast is ready—"

"I'm not hungry anymore," Remus said quietly, crossing his arms and taking a step away from the dining table.

"Remus," Dad whispered. "Son, please don't be upset. I—I need this. My Healer is the one who recommended retirement—and St. Oswald's—"

"I'm not upset," Remus lied, shaking his head, hating himself for the broken expression on his father's face. "Really, Dad, I just—I just remembered that I have to work tonight."

"Remus—love, don't—"

"I'll come back another time," Remus said, heading in the direction of the kitchen door; Dad followed. "Maybe—maybe next week? We can work out how to sell the house."

"I—Remus—"

But Remus was already out the door, hurrying across the overgrown seaside yard, past the beds of sea lavender that his mother had spent years nurturing, past the little stone garden path she had paved by hand…

Holding his breath, he apparated away from Shell Cottage before the kitchen door had even closed behind him.

* * *

Author's Note:

This is the first of two chapters that encapsulate the "lost years" of Remus's life, between the end of the war and the beginning of his career at Hogwarts. These chapters are probably the two most hopeless ones in the entire fic.

Also, if you didn't catch it, there's a recurring theme in this chapter (and the next one): Every vignette ends with a door closing. It's meant to be sort of symbolic of what Remus's life feels like during this time period.

The next chapter will be posted next week. With that, we will be about halfway done with this story!

Hugs,  
Ari


	37. Lost II

Author's Note:

Hello! I don't typically include author's notes at the beginning of chapters, but I feel inclined to mention that this chapter deals with some pretty heavy themes and emotions, exploring what I believe to be the darkest period of Remus's life. Please do take note of this before reading. Thanks, lovelies!

* * *

12 June 1982

"Your new keys, ma'am," Remus handed Shell Cottage's keys over to the tall, elderly, silver-haired witch in front of him. "And I believe my dad already Owled you the deed?"

"He did, yes," Madam Prewett said, smiling warmly at Remus. "What a terribly nice gentleman, your father. Where did you say he was living now?"

"Upper Flagley," Remus said, shifting awkwardly. "He…he's in St. Oswald's."

Madam Prewett raised her eyebrows. "St. Oswald's? The home for elderly wizards?"

Remus nodded without meeting Madam Prewett's eyes. "That's the one."

"Oh—well, he didn't strike me as particularly old," Madam Prewett said in surprise. But then, catching Remus's eye, she added gently, "But you know, perhaps that was his youthful spirit."

Remus gave her a slightly strained smile, shifting his feet again.

Just then— "Therese!" shrilled a voice from Shell Cottage's front porch, and both Remus and Madam Prewett looked up from where they were standing in the front yard to see Madam Prewett's imperious, haughty-faced sister hobbling down the garden path towards them. She panted slightly as made her way down the grassy slope. "Therese, are you _quite_ certain about this property?" she puffed, once she had reached her sister. "It's a little—well—" she glanced disparagingly at Remus, "— _quaint_."

"I've already bought it, Muriel, as you very well know," Madam Prewett told her sister patiently, though there was an edge to her voice. "Besides, I think it's beautiful. Molly and Arthur will love bringing the children here in the summertime."

Muriel Prewett snorted. "An excuse for them to dump their constantly multiplying brood of redheaded demons on you, more like," she muttered. "I'm sure baby number eight will be announced any day now."

Therese gave her sister a sharp look, but Muriel just harrumphed, before rounding on Remus.

"What's that odd little cellar in the backyard?" Muriel demanded.

Therese frowned, turning to Remus as well. "Cellar?"

"Oh—er—I think it's a shelter of sorts," Remus invented quickly. "You know…in case—er—in case the tide gets too high."

" _Hmph_ ," Muriel said, nostrils flaring. "See, Tessie, I told you this place seemed suspicious—"

"Muriel, that's quite enough," Therese interrupted, plainly exasperated. "Please, for the love of Merlin, go back inside. I'm going to need your advice for decorating."

At this, Muriel looked slightly mollified. With one last distrustful look at Remus, she sniffed, then turned and began tottering back in the direction of the house.

Therese looked at Remus. "I'm sorry," she said in a low voice. "My younger sister has never much been one for tact."

Remus blushed. "It's all right, Madam Prewett," he said.

"Oh, please, just call me Tessie, dear," Therese said, her eyes crinkling as she smiled—in a way that was suddenly very familiar to Remus. His heart gave a jolt in his chest.

"Ma'am, I-I'm sorry—I don't mean to be intrusive," he stammered. "But were you…were you by any chance related to Gideon and Fabian Prewett?"

Therese looked at Remus in surprise. Then, after a moment, her face melted into a sad smile. "They were my great-nephews," she said softly. "I miss them terribly."

Remus swallowed. "I worked with them for a few years," he said quietly. "They were…quite a presence."

"That, they were," Therese said warmly, beaming at Remus. "So, you're a curse-breaker, too?"

"Oh—no," Remus shook his head. "I worked with them more…tangentially. They're rather hard to forget though."

Therese laughed. Then, with a glance over her shoulder at the cottage, she lowered her voice. "They drove their auntie Muriel positively barmy."

Remus grinned.

As if on cue, Muriel's impatient squawk floated down from one of the second floor windows.

"Tessie Prewett! I haven't got all day, you know!"

"Oh, all right, all right!" Therese called back. She looked at Remus. "Did you want to have a last look at the place, dear?" she asked kindly. "To say goodbye?"

Remus opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again, blinking rapidly. Flashes of disjointed memories flitted across his mind…all the holidays he had spent here with his parents…the summers he'd spent exploring the village with Mum…the Christmas Eves he'd spent reading by the fireplace with his father…finding out that his friends had mastered their Animagus transformations…ripping open his O.W.L. results on the porch swing…celebrating his N.E.W.T. results on the seaside cliffs with Dad—the first Firewhisky they had ever shared together…

But there were also the full moons he had spent, alone, in that dark, horrible outdoor cellar…and the afternoon his father had finally told him why Fenrir Greyback had bitten him as a toddler…and the weeks after Mum had died, when Dad had turned into a mere shell of himself, barely able to pull himself out of bed in the mornings…

And, worst of all, there was the day, almost a year ago now, when Remus had collapsed in his old bedroom—sobbed like a baby in his father's arms—after his entire world had fallen apart…

Remus swallowed heavily, looking at Therese. "I—uhm—" he cleared his throat, trying to unstick his voice. "I think…I think I need to be going, ma'am."

Therese smiled understandingly. "Well, then, you have a good day, dear," she said, grasping Remus's arms and leaning forward to kiss both his cheeks. "And please do drop me a line if you ever want to visit—you're welcome anytime."

Remus tried to return her smile, but he couldn't quite manage it. Fortunately, Therese didn't seem to notice, as she turned and glided up the slope to the cottage's front porch.

Remus waited for her to disappear into the doorframe and for the front door to close behind her, before he turned his back on Shell Cottage—on his childhood—for good.

* * *

17 January 1986

"'Mcoming, 'mcoming…hold y'hippogriffs…" Remus muttered groggily, staggering down the hallway from his bedroom to the kitchen, where he found a screech owl tapping vigorously and insistently at his kitchen window. Tied to the owl's foot was a copy of the _Daily Prophet_.

Remus rubbed his eyes and grimaced, before stepping forward to wrench open the window. Whichever damned fool had dispatched the _Prophet_ owls at five o'clock on a Friday morning would soon be suffering a very tragic demise at the hands of the greater Wizarding community, Remus was certain.

Tossing the newspaper on his kitchen table, Remus found a near-empty can of owl treats in one of his kitchen cupboards and set it on the windowsill for the screech owl. Then, yawning widely, he trudged over to the stove to put the kettle on.

Remus forgot about the newspaper until nearly two hours later, as he was getting ready to head down to the village school. When he wasn't waiting tables at the local tavern, he was often called upon by the local Muggle school to substitute for teachers when they took ill. It was a rather bittersweet thing—Remus had always imagined being a teacher one day, but somehow, he had allowed himself to believe that it would be in the Wizarding world…

Drawing his Muggle coat over his threadbare jumper, Remus tucked his wand safely away in his pocket. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the copy of the _Prophet_ that he'd left lying on the kitchen table.

Remus glanced at his wristwatch; he had a few minutes to kill until he was due at the school. Shrugging, Remus picked up the newspaper and unrolled it, smoothing out the front page.

He almost dropped it.

 **CURE FOR LYCANTHROPY FOUND? YOUNG POTIONEER TALKS YEARS-LONG PROCESS**

Remus's hands shook violently. Heart thumping, he scanned the articled: _Wolfsbane_ … _developed by potions extraordinaire Damocles Belby_ —Remus's heart stopped…Belby… _Belby_ … _Professor_ Belby, his very first Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts…who had taken such a keen interest in Remus from the start…

 _"_ _It is not a real cure. Not in the traditional sense," Mr. Belby clarified at a press conference late Thursday evening. "It merely regulates the monthly symptoms of lycanthropy. It should, essentially, allow the consumer to lead a normal life."_

 _Ingredients and brewing instructions can be found on page 7_.

Remus finished reading, his heart lodged somewhere between his throat and his chest. For several moments, he could do no more than stare down at the article—at Damocles Belby's beaming face, as he shook hands with Minister for Magic Millicent Bagnold at the press conference, cameras flashing all around them…

Then, in a rush, Remus tore the newspaper open to page seven, quickly locating the subheading _'Ingredients and Instructions.'_ And just as quickly as his heart had lodged itself in his throat, it plummeted to his feet like a stone.

The cheapest ingredient was worth more than all of Remus's savings.

Burning disappointment crashed over Remus, welling up inside him like bile. But before he could allow himself to process what he was feeling, he quickly tossed the newspaper aside—it landed on the kitchen floor and skidded somewhere under the stove—and Remus stalked out through the back door of his cottage, slamming it closed behind him.

* * *

5 June 1992

 _Dear Remus,_

 _How are you? It's been some time since I last heard from you. I hope you're doing all right._

 _I'm writing to ask a favor. Harry got into a spot of trouble here at Hogwarts and it looks like he'll be stuck in the Hospital Wing for a couple of days. Do you think you might have any photos of his parents that you wouldn't mind giving up? I thought I might put something special together to cheer him up._

 _Thanks,  
Hagrid_

Remus read the letter nearly twenty times, from beginning to end, before he put it back down on his kitchen table and closed his eyes, his heart filling with a wave of nostalgia that seemed to make every nerve in his body ache. Remus's contact with the Wizarding world over the last few years had become almost exclusively limited to the monthly visits he paid his father in St. Oswald's and the occasional trip he made to Diagon Alley; it had been nearly a whole decade since the last time he had corresponded with anyone in the Order. Dumbledore had written sporadically in the months following the end of the war, but between everything else that he'd been dealing with at the time, Remus had not made the effort to stay in touch _._

 _Harry was at Hogwarts_. And he'd gotten himself into _'a spot of trouble,'_ it seemed. Remus's heart gave a little jolt. Had he inherited his father's penchant for inciting chaos, then, just as James had always dreamed? Picking up the letter again, Remus reduced himself to staring at the words _'Harry'_ and _'Hogwarts,'_ both so familiar—and yet, they could have been a million miles away…

 _Photos_. Hagrid needed photos. _For Harry_. Still clutching Hagrid's letter tightly in his hand, Remus scrambled to his feet and hurried out of the kitchen, down the hallway to his bedroom. Then, kneeling down on his bedroom floor, Remus crouched under his bed and began rummaging through the clutter of contents until he found what he was looking for—a musty old snuffbox of photographs he'd taken of his friends over the years, the very select few he'd allowed himself to keep, instead of handing over to James to plaster his dormitory walls with—or to Lily, for her countless photo albums…

Swallowing the lump that had already swelled painfully in his throat, Remus reached out a trembling hand and unclasped the snuffbox—and his breath caught in his throat as his eyes landed on the first photograph.

It was from James and Lily's wedding reception—one of Remus's favorites, one that he'd loved so much he'd rather selfishly neglected to pass it along to Lily with the rest of the photos he'd taken that day. In it, James, grinning foolishly, was embracing Lily, whose face was positively glowing with happiness. But Remus wasn't looking at James or Lily—he was too busy staring at the third occupant of the photograph, who stood with his arm slung around James's shoulders, his handsome face radiant, roaring with laughter at the newlyweds. Was he already planning their demise? Had he already become the traitor that no one, least of all Remus, had ever, _ever_ suspected he could be?

Hot, furious tears burned Remus's eyes—it had been so long since the last time he had felt this way; he thought had buried these feelings years ago—but suddenly, the thought of going through the rest of the photos was unbearable…

Remus swiped a hand under his nose, then reached into the snuffbox and roughly scooped the entire stack of photographs out. A second later, he was back in his kitchen, shoving the stack of photos into the same envelope that Hagrid's letter had arrived in, sealing the envelope shut…

* * *

 _Dear Hagrid,_

 _Here's everything I have._

 _Remus_

* * *

14 February 1993

"A gillywater, please. Neat. And make it a strong one."

Remus startled at the familiar voice, unmistakably sharp and Scottish. Sure enough, looking up from his dark, corner booth in the Hog's Head Inn, he saw his old deputy headmistress standing at the bar, looking disgruntled as she yanked off her tartan traveling cloak and took a seat on a barstool.

Remus stared at her, frozen in time. He couldn't even remember the last he'd seen her—and seeing her in the Hog's Head now, the site of so many Order meetings past, was especially disorienting…

He watched as Aberforth plunked a dusty glass of gillywater down on the bar counter in front of Professor McGonagall. Then, Aberforth leaned forward and muttered something in her ear. She frowned, turning around in her barstool and scanning the pub—and by the time Remus had registered exactly what Aberforth must have told her, it was too late: Her sharp green eyes had landed on where Remus was sitting, half-hidden in the shadows of his corner booth.

He couldn't have looked away if he wanted to. His old professor's gaze had rendered him motionless.

For several moments, the two of them simply looked at one another. Then, slowly, McGonagall picked up her glass of gillywater and her traveling cloak and strode across the grimy pub floor to his table.

"Mr. Lupin," she said quietly. "It's been a long time."

Remus opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. McGonagall didn't seem to notice. Setting her gillywater down on the table, she lowered herself into the seat opposite Remus's.

"It's a little early in the day to be drinking, isn't it?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at Remus's nearly-empty glass of Firewhisky.

"I could say the same to you," Remus responded before he could stop himself. Then, once he'd realized what he'd said—and to just _whom_ exactly he'd said it—he gasped. "I—Professor—I'm so sorry—I didn't mean—"

Professor McGonagall waved a hand. "I'm not your professor anymore," she said tartly. "Please, say of my drinking habits what you will."

"I didn't mean to—it wasn't—" Remus spluttered, face flushing. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to collect himself. "I just meant…well, it _is_ early."

McGonagall's lips twitched. "Yes. I suppose it is." She considered him closely for a second. Then, taking a sip of her gillywater, she leaned back slightly in her chair. "How are you, Mr. Lupin?"

In spite of himself, Remus laughed hoarsely. "You can call me Remus now, you know," he said. "You said it yourself—you're not my professor anymore." He shrugged, fiddling with the rim of his scotch glass. "I'm doing fine. Had a bit of a rough week, but I'm recovering."

McGonagall's lips tightened with understanding. She frowned. "Surely…" she began quietly. "Surely, it isn't as painful anymore? With—with the Wolfsbane Potion?"

Remus smiled humorlessly. "Perhaps it wouldn't be, if I had the means to make it."

McGonagall stared at him, her expression unreadable—but Remus could practically feel the pity that was radiating off of her in waves. He cleared his throat, averting his gaze from hers. "I get by all right," he said, picking up his scotch glass. "I've been working as a teacher, the past few years—at a Muggle school in Yorkshire."

McGonagall blinked. "Muggle school—?"

"Muggles ask fewer questions when you take sick days around the full moon every month. I learned that early on," Remus shrugged, swilling his Firewhisky around in his glass. "Mind you, it was hard to get a footing in the Muggle world—you can't exactly tell Muggles that you completed most of your education in a magical boarding school for wizards in Scotland." He raised his glass to his lips and took a sip, still determinedly avoiding McGonagall's eyes.

For several long moments, McGonagall was silent. Then, finally— "Remus, I…I'm so sorry," she said heavily. "Between everything with the Potters—and Pettigrew, and Black—I…I should have reached out—"

"No—Professor, please don't apologize," Remus met McGonagall's gaze at last, startled by her tone. "I—after James and Lily…well, I appreciated being left alone, to be honest." He paused, swallowing. "My only regret is that I wasn't there for their son."

McGonagall looked at him—and it was clear from her expression that she wanted to say more. But Remus shook his head, forcing a smile onto his face. "You know, you never did explain why you were getting a drink in the middle of a Sunday afternoon," he said, raising his eyebrows.

McGonagall snorted, picking up her glass again. "Our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor decided to do a little _decorating_ for Valentine's Day," she said acidly. "The Great Hall currently looks like Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop."

"What?" Remus laughed. "You're joking."

"If only," McGonagall sighed, shaking her head. "The last several Defense professors have been nothing short of a group of buffoons, but Gilderoy Lockhart certainly takes the cake."

"Wait a minute—Gilderoy Lockhart?" Remus asked in disbelief. "You…you don't mean that idiot Ravenclaw who carved his name into the Quidditch pitch my seventh year? James nearly hexed him! He's teaching at _Hogwarts?_ "

"Applications for the Defense post are few and far between these days—most everyone is convinced that the job is jinxed," McGonagall explained in a tired voice. "Lockhart was the only one who applied this year—but believe me, had I known I'd be dealing with heart-shaped confetti and Valentine card-delivering dwarfs, I might have thought harder about choosing him. If Professor Dumbledore doesn't find a new Defense professor by next term, I might explode—although Merlin knows if we'll even be able to find a replacement…" McGonagall trailed off, staring at Remus. Her gaze had become slightly unfocused.

Remus frowned at her. "Professor? Is everything all right?"

"I—yes," McGonagall stood up suddenly, and Remus jumped, startled. "I've just realized—I have to meet with Professor Dumbledore right away."

Remus watched, perplexed, as McGonagall hurriedly gathered up her traveling cloak and banished her half-finished glass of Gillywater back to the bar counter. "Er—Professor—?"

"You'll hear from me soon, Remus," McGonagall said briskly, already halfway across the bar. And then, she was gone, the door to the Hog's Head swinging shut in her wake, leaving Remus staring after her in bewilderment.

* * *

27 May 1993

"This is everything he had on him," said the St. Oswald's caregiver whose name Remus hadn't registered, as he pressed a small cardboard box of arbitrary items—a few gold galleons, a wedding band, several small photographs—into Remus's hands. "You can come back another week to pick up the bigger items, like his clothes and furniture, if you'd like."

"Thank you," Remus murmured, accepting the box almost robotically. He was having a hard time putting thoughts together; his mind felt completely detached from his body.

"Er—we're going to send a letter to the mortuary now, to let them know they can pick your father up," the caregiver continued in a low voice, shifting his feet. "You can contact them directly to arrange funeral details."

Remus nodded tightly. "I appreciate that."

"Of course," the caregiver said quietly, glancing at Remus. "Erm—did you…did you want to see him once more time, before I write the mortuary?"

Remus stared past the caregiver's shoulder, at the closed door to his father's spacious room in St Oswald's Home for Old Witches and Wizards. Though Remus and his father had corresponded regularly by owl post, Remus had only visited the home a few times per year since his father had moved there, nearly eleven years ago. Remus swallowed.

"No, I…it's all right," Remus told the caregiver. "Let the mortuary know I'll be in contact with them."

The caregiver nodded. Then, with a sad half-smile at Remus, he turned around and headed down the hallway to his office. Remus stared after him for several, long moments. Finally, stomach churning, he looked down at the cardboard box in his arms—and his eyes landed on the photograph at the top of the pile of odd artifacts. It was a Muggle photograph—so Remus knew his mother must have developed it—of Remus and his father on the night Remus was born. In it, Dad was cradling Remus tenderly to his chest, his face glowing.

Slowly, his fingers trembling, Remus reached down and picked up the photograph before he could stop himself, gazing down at his young father, so familiar—and yet, so different from the tired, ill, guilt-ridden man that Remus had watched him become in the last years of his life. Swallowing the burning in his throat, Remus turned the photograph over in his palm—and his breath caught.

There were words written on the back. Remus immediately recognized his father's pointy scrawl: _'10 March 1960. Remus John Lupin. A great wizard in the making.'_

Remus stared down at the handwritten note for a long while. Then, with a shuddering breath, Remus dropped the photograph back into the cardboard box, squeezing his eyes shut.

They were all gone now. His mother, James, Lily…Peter…Sirius…and now, his father, the last person in the world who had loved him through it all.

Hot tears burned Remus's face as they rolled down his cheeks, but Remus barely noticed, feeling numb as he turned and walked away from the wooden door to his father's St. Oswald's quarters—down the home's rickety, old staircase—out the front gates—and into a future that, for the first time in his entire life, Remus had no desire to face.

* * *

Author's Note:

SO. It's been a HOT minute since my last chapter, am I right? More than a year, in fact! My sincerest, sincerest apologies to all of my readers. I promise, I plan to do a MUCH better job with updates this year. Thanks to everyone who stuck with this story and to everyone who is reading it for the first time now. I appreciate you all :)

Ari


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